


The Pursued, the Pursuing

by bluebright_l, Nomme_de_Plume



Series: The Pursued, the Pursuing - AU [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 61,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebright_l/pseuds/bluebright_l, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomme_de_Plume/pseuds/Nomme_de_Plume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU set during Prohibition in the US. Lots of crack ships, gratuitous violence, romance, and corruption, as well as some really nifty slang!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Supper

**Author's Note:**

> Crackshipping ahoy, folks. Also, we may have taken some creative license in order to more accurately portray the time period. Just an FYI ;)

Theon took a final drag on his cigarette, and flicked the butt into the crushed shells lining the circular driveway of Riverrun, laughing when Robb strode around from the other side of the Rolls and picked it up with a scowl.  
  
“How many times must I tell you, Theon?” Robb’s tone was exasperated as he licked his fingers and pinched the still-smoldering butt, but he accepted the flask Theon offered him with a smile.  
  
They’d collared a jewel thief that afternoon, and Theon had been pleased to find that the man had had ties to the Frey family. Not that that meant a whole hell of a lot, seeing as how the old man had nigh on 30 children, if you counted bastards. But still, it had given Theon a passing satisfaction to note, once again, that he was not the  only person in Robb’s life with less than stellar family ties.  
  
“Gonna call Ros and let her know we pinched one of her cousins, Stark?”  
  
Robb sighed mightily, and handed Theon’s flask back to him. “Shut your gob, Greyjoy. He’s a second cousin, once removed. And I’m going out with her after dinner, I’ll tell her then,” Robb grinned at Theon, and continued. “You know, Roslin is always on me to bring a friend for her roommate...she won’t let me bring you though.”  
  
Theon snorted, taking his suit jacket off and slinging it over his shoulder as they made their way up to the house, a grand old thing situated on the banks of the river. He had no interest in squiring any of Roslin Frey’s drab little friends around town while she and Robb got busy in the back seat. All the same, it rankled that she would try to keep them apart.  
  
“Now you know I want to come, right?” Theon followed Robb through the grand French doors, nodding at the plainclothes guards stationed on either side. The night was warm, and the men were sweating in their suits, but Ned Stark, Robb’s father and Theon’s one-time foster father, would accept nothing but proper attire.  
  
The two of them bickered familiarly, Robb cuffing Theon on the ear when Theon called him an uptight cunt, and Theon responding with a jab to the ribs. It felt like a good night, and when Sansa, the elder of Robb’s two sisters, met them in the hall, Theon leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek.  
  
“Sansa, you look ravishing. When are you going to bob your hair, sweetling? It will suit you to show off that lovely neck.” Theon winked at Sansa as Robb spluttered something about loose women, and offering her his arm, sauntered down the hall and into the dining room.  
  
Catelyn Stark smiled wearily at them as they entered, and Theon reflected that the recent threats against Ned and the rest of the family had taken a toll on her. Sansa patted Theon’s hand once and dropped his arm to help her mother with Rickon, who was throwing a tantrum of epic proportions.  
  
“I WANT FATHER! I WANT JON! I WANT OSHAAAAA!” Rickon was kicking and screaming on the floor, his feet drumming on the plush Oriental rug.  
  
Theon’s lip curled up slightly at the mention of Jon, and he noticed Catelyn’s expression sour slightly as well. Robb, who’d entered the room just after Theon and Sansa, knelt beside Rickon on the floor, speaking soft and soothingly.  _He’s such a good brother_ , Theon thought, sitting silently beside Arya and offering her his flask under the table. He smiled when she snatched it from him and brought her cut-glass goblet of water down to her side and nonchalantly reached back, pouring it into the potted fern behind her. She refilled her glass generously from the flask, and Theon gritted his teeth, annoyed. At the rate she was pouring, he’d have to speak with Asha again sooner than he’d hoped.  
  
Between Catelyn, Sansa and Robb, they finally got Rickon settled down and seated for dinner. As if on cue, Bran rolled in and took his place at the table. Robb seated himself next to Theon, leaving his father’s seat at the head of the table empty. Catelyn coughed once, then took the hands of Bran and Rickon, and looked expectantly around the table. Theon took Arya’s hand, still clammy from being wrapped around her glass, tickling her palm.  
  
Robb reached over and grabbed his other hand, and before Theon could draw a breath, they were praying. Well, more accurately, Catelyn was praying, the Stark children were sitting with heads bowed, some praying maybe, some not. He’d never been much for prayers, and anyway, the Starks were Protestants; he might not be much of a Greyjoy, but he kept to the old ways, at least. Theon looked around the table, and guessed that Sansa and Bran were probably praying, Arya probably had an edge on already, and Robb was thinking of Roslin’s fine little tits. Lord only knows what Rickon was thinking, the boy was a hellcat, and no doubt about it.  
  
After the prayer, dinner was brought out, and time passed pleasantly enough, although Theon wished that Arya would quit pinching him under the table. He wasn’t about to get his flask out and pour her some more ‘shine right in front of her mother, and besides, her face had a rosy glow to it that told him she’d had more than enough. How old was she again? Thirteen, fourteen? The next time she reached over and pinched his thigh, he caught her hand and wrenched it backwards, all the while smiling.  
  
Before she could raise her voice in protest, or more likely, stomp on his toes, they all heard it: the scream of a siren, growing louder and louder before it cut out suddenly. Robb and Theon stood as the crunch of tires on crushed shells became audible, and the hush in the room was heavy as a woolen blanket. Theon’s gut was roiling, the possibilities jangling his nerves. Had he been found out? Were they coming for him? He couldn’t think of anything else at the moment, although logically he knew it could be any number of things. But why the sirens, then?  
  
When old Barristan Selmy entered the room, grey-haired but still formidably formed, and they all saw the blood staining his white shirt, the way his tie hung askew, Theon knew. He knew, and he couldn’t say what he felt most strongly: relief, shame, or grief. Barristan tried to speak, but his voice broke on the words, and Catelyn was coming around the table now.  
  
“No. No, Mr. Selmy, you march right back out of here this instant...” Catelyn trailed off in a sob, and clutched the back of Sansa’s chair to keep from falling.  
  
“I’m sorry, Cat. There were too many...we couldn’t...” Selmy was shaking his head, and a drop of blood flew from his face. “Ned and Robert, both gone-”  
  
Robb interrupted, “That’s enough, Barristan!” He took the man by the elbow and led him from the room without looking back, confident that Theon would follow.  
  
Theon grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, but before he could go, he glanced across the table and saw Catelyn Stark sink to the floor, rather gracefully, but out cold all the same. Sansa and Bran were both staring at him, and Arya had stood up to follow him out of the room. Rickon was intent on mashing his potatoes into the tablecloth, and didn’t seem aware that anything out of the ordinary had happened. Theon silently cursed Robb for leaving him to deal with this, but he supposed it was the shock of the thing.  
  
“Arya, sit down,” Theon snapped. “Sansa get Rickon to his room-”  
  
“But-” Arya was indignant, and clearly half-drunk, dashing angry tears from her face with a clenched fist.  
  
“Sit, or go to your room. You’re not going in there, though.” Theon gestured vaguely to the library Robb had decamped to with Selmy.  
  
Arya stormed off, and Theon rounded the table to find Catelyn Stark lying still behind Sansa’s chair. He glanced up at Sansa as he knelt beside her mother, noting the way her eyes swam with tears that didn’t fall.  _She’s strong now, when did that happen?_ Theon lifted Catelyn’s head and pulled out his flask, ignoring Sansa’s gasp as he propped her mother’s head against his thigh. He poured just a trickle of the strong moonshine down Catelyn’s throat, and was immediately rewarded with a cough.  
  
“Ned...my Ned...” Catelyn’s voice was weak, and she couldn’t stop coughing.  
  
Theon looked away from her grief, the moment uncomfortably intimate, and locked eyes with Bran, who was staring at him solemnly. The kid had always given him the heebie-jeebies, and now was no exception.  
  
“You should go be with Robb, Theon, he needs you.” Bran was eerily calm. “Sansa and I can take care of Mother.”  
  
Theon just nodded, before he realized he was taking orders from a ten year old, but by then Catelyn had sat up and taken the flask from his hands, sniffing it suspiciously before taking another small swig.  Her voice was much stronger when she spoke again.  
  
“Yes, Theon, go help Robb. Find the men who did this.”  
  
Theon rose wordlessly, leaving the Starks in their grief, and joined Robb and Barristan in the library. Robb was raving at Barristan, who was sitting in a leather armchair, staring blankly, clearly in shock. It was too much...Theon crossed to Robb in a few long strides and smacked him across the face before taking him by the shoulders and shaking him hard.  
  
“Robb! Pull yourself together. This solves nothing.” Theon slid an arm around Robb’s back, pulling his pistol from the hidden holster there, and slapped it into his palm solidly. “This will solve things. Cold, hard steel and bullets. We’ll find the thugs that did this, and they’ll pay.”  
  
Theon didn’t let himself think about the ramifications of this, couldn’t let himself think of  who could’ve done this. That was a long, winding road, and he didn’t have the luxury of driving himself crazy just now. Robb was staring at the pistol in his hand as if he’d never seen it before, let alone held it, fired it.  
  
Barristan rose from the chair wearily. “You would say that, Greyjoy.” He turned to address Robb, “Robb, my boy, your father was never one to play tit-for-tat, and you know that. I’m going now, but be smart. Don’t let this one,” he gestured to Theon, “lead you astray.”  
  
After Selmy had made his self-righteous little speech, he left Theon and Robb alone in the library. Internally, Theon was fuming at the implication that he would lead his friend astray, but his shark’s smile never faltered.  
  
“We  will  find them, Robb-”  
  
Robb cut him off, “Don’t be a jackass, Theon. We’ll find them, but we’re not going to  kill anyone, or we’re as bad as them.” He sighed. “We’ll find them, and turn them over to Stannis...he’ll throw the book at them.”  
  
Theon just shrugged. They were dancing around something here, something that was best left unsaid, so he let it go and held his flask out to Robb as a peace offering. Robb finished it off and wiped his mouth, making a face.  
  
“I’m going to check on Mother and the kids, and then ring up Roslin, we were supposed to go out...” Robb trailed off, suddenly sounding younger than his twenty-one years.  
  
“Go on, then.” Theon’s mind was in turmoil, but he knew his friend would need something to keep from going mad. “When you’re finished, come out back. I’ve got some more of that,” he gestured to the empty flask, “stashed away.”  
  
Robb just nodded at him blankly and left the library, closing the door quietly behind him. Theon quickly picked up the telephone and jiggled the handle, until an operator came on the line and asked for the number. He paused a moment, unsure. He’d been ready to say Asha’s number at the club, but...no, that would be unwise.  
  
“WYK371,” he blurted out.  _Yes, Aeron. That’s good...spiritual guidance, if anyone asks._  
  
The operator rang him through, and his uncle Aeron picked up almost immediately.  
  
“Get off the line, girl.” His voice was harsh, and Theon picked up the message in it.  Don’t talk until she’s hung up.  
  
When the tell-tale click of her ringing off came, Theon hesitated, and his uncle filled the void.  
  
“Do you need guidance, nephew? Consolation? Ned Stark was not of our faith, but he was a God-fearing man...” Aeron was droning on, and Theon tuned him out, turning the empty flask upside down mournfully. “...but I can tell that is not why you called. Speak, then, boy. Ask me what you fear to have answered.”  
  
“Was it...” Theon couldn’t finish that sentence. Couldn’t bring himself to say “us”, and he knew if he said “you”, he’d catch hell.  
  
“No.” His uncle had a good voice, for a priest of the faith, deep and sonorous. When he spoke that one word, it sent a chill down Theon’s spine. “We did not do this thing. It was an abomination, a cowardly act, although that would hardly stop your uncle Euron-”  
  
Theon cut him off. “But it wasn’t Euron, yeah?”  
  
“I have spoken with both my brothers, and your sister, already. It was not us. And don’t say “yeah” to me, boy.”  
  
“I’m sorry, uncle,” He forced the apology past his lips...he had no interest in pissing off his uncle. “I’ll be around soon, you can tell Asha.”  
  
“See that you are. What is dead can never die...” Aeron intoned.  
  
“But rises again, harder and stronger.” The reply was automatic, and Theon nearly threw mouthpiece back against the receiver as he hung up.  
  
He took a deep breath, breathing easier for the first time since he’d heard the sirens, and went to scrounge up some liquor for him and Robb.


	2. The Game Begins

“Keep your shoulder down!”

 

Mya Stone closed her eyes, chewing on the inside of her lip to keep from storming across the red clay tennis courts and bludgeoning her bleating coach to death. _ If I keep my shoulder any lower I’ll be laying on the ground._ Nevertheless, she adjusted her position and, opening her deep blue eyes, nodded across the courts to her training partner. Roslin Frey was petite, coming up to Mya’s chin on a good day, with doe eyes and brown hair slipping out of a braid tossed over her shoulder. She and Mya had both come to Kingsport the previous year after receiving athletic scholarship to the state-run women’s college located in the heart of the city.

 

Mya had been stunned to receive the scholarship. She’d played tennis for as long as she could remember, mostly at her mother’s insistence. It had never been a great passion of hers, but apparently it had been enough to impress the right people. It was fortunate, really. An academic scholarship, while not impossible, was unlikely, and there was no way her mother would have enough money to send her anywhere. Her job as a file clerk with Arryn Avionics was enough to keep the two of them fed, clothed, and sheltered, but little more. Mya sometimes thought there were other forces at work, but every time she tried to question her mother about it, she may as well have been questioning her bedroom wall.

 

“Mya!” Roslin called across the net, tossing a ball lightly in her hand. “Are you awake over there?”

 

Mya started and nodded again, brushing a short lock of coal-black hair out of her eyes. “Sorry!”

 

Roslin served, and for the next few hours Mya concentrated on her game, darting to and fro across the courts until her thighs ached and her lungs burned. Fossoway barked out orders in his gruff way until the sun slipped below the city’s skyline, then blew three short blasts on his whistle. “That’s enough for tonight, ladies. Frey, remember what I told you about your follow-through. It’s looking flimsy, especially on your backhand. Mya, remember to-”

 

“-keep my shoulder down.” Mya finished for him, dabbing a bit of sweat (“Dew”, Roslin would call it) off her forehead. “I know.”

 

Fossoway’s overhanging brow furrowed for a moment. “Stop telling me you know, and start showing me.” He lit a cigarette, a wisp of smoke curling lazily upward. “You’re on ball detail tonight.”

 

Roslin waited patiently while Mya collected the tennis balls scattered along the court, handing her her light coat when she was finished. “Did you see those twins Fossoway was talking to when we got here?”

 

Mya nodded, tucking her racket into its bag and shrugging it over her shoulder. “Those redheaded boys? Yeah, why? Do you know them?”

 

“No, thank the gods.” Roslin grinned. “One of them was staring at you though.”

 

 _Gods._ Mya rolled her eyes as they started for their nearby dormitory. “Don’t start with that baloney again, Roslin.” The shorter girl had a somewhat annoying habit of trying to improve the state of Mya’s love life by suggesting, usually through giggles, that Mya throw herself at any available man. Mya usually took these recommendations with a grain of salt. Dating just wasn’t high up on her list of priorities.

 

“Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket. All you ever do is sit around in our room, ever since you got here. It wouldn’t kill you to at least _ try_ to have some fun. Go out, meet some people. You like jazz; there’s a club 3 blocks away. Robb took me there last week, and...”

 

Mya tuned Roslin out as she started on about Robb Stark, her fiance. He was the son of Kingsport’s police chief, and while Mya had never met him, she’d heard enough about him to be able to pen his biography if anyone asked her. He was the eldest of 6 children, with 2 sisters, 2 brothers, and a half-brother, and from what Roslin had said, was working through the ranks of Kingsport’s police department. He was a detective, she’d say often, and was due for another promotion any day. He also, according to Roslin, had the most touchable hair a man could have, hated his mother’s onion pie, and when he was little had spent 4 years wanting to be a centaur.

  
       Roslin pulled open the door to their dormitory, still chattering on and heedless of the fact that Mya had long since stopped listening. After the mild twilight of the city, the dorm’s main hall seemed dark and cool. The building was ancient, a towering pile of ivy-covered brick and river stone, housing several floors of fellow students. The rooms themselves were cramped and when it rained, they had an odd, musty smell. It was nothing like home - there were far too many people, too many noises, too many new scents that assailed her endlessly. It had been overwhelming, and she had almost fled after three weeks - she went so far as to inquire about a train ticket home, but as she was hurriedly tossing clothes into a ragged suitcase, all she could think about was the last time she’d seen her mother.  
  
       “This is for the best, Mya.” Her words had belied the tears glinting in her eyes. Her worn, warm hand caressed Mya’s cheek as she pulled her close for a hug. “You’re not doing anyone any good clinging to the side of this mountain. Go on now. Make your mother proud.”  
  
 _Make your mother proud._ Those four words had rattled around in Mya’s head for the rest of the night, and the following day, and all the days since. Try as she might to drown them out, they were the four weights that kept her here in Kingsport, away from the safety of her mountain.  
  
       “Mya? Mya, I swear, sometimes I don’t think you even bother trying to listen to me!” Roslin’s fists were propped on her hips, her brown eyes glowering at her roommate. They’d arrived back at their room, and Roslin was staring at Mya expectantly. “You _ do_ have your key, right? I left mine on the dresser again.”  
  
       “Right...” Mya fished in her pocket and slid the small key into the lock. She tossed her racket on the bed and pulled her coat off while Roslin kept on talking, having barely missed a beat.  


“Anyway, I’m going to ask Robb if he’ll take me to the new picture palace down near the boardwalk - Jennie down at the mail desk went last week and she said it was even bigger than the one on the river! Can you imagine?” Roslin flopped onto her bed, gazing raptly at the ceiling before propping herself up on an elbow. “You should come with us. Robb’s got a few very cute friends...”

  
    “Not tonight.” Mya smiled a bit tightly, thinking of the mountain of studying awaiting her. “Some other time maybe.”  
  
       Roslin shrugged, peeling off her tennis whites and reaching for her robe. “Suit yourself. I’m going to have a bath, assuming they  _ever_ had the maintenance man up to fix the hot water pipes. Honestly, Viola said last week she only had 3 minutes of hot water. 3 minutes! Can you imagine?” Without waiting for a response, Roslin wandered out of their dorm towards the washroom.  
  
       Mya shrugged out of her own clothes, pulling on her robe and pushing the window open. She perched on the sill, looking out over the city below her. A breeze whispered through the window, carrying with it the faintest touch of autumn. _ The sooner, the better._ Mya was a cool-weather creature, unaccustomed to the sticky coastal heat that would hang over Kingsport like a blanket. If she craned her neck just a bit...there. Despite her ambivalence towards the city, Mya loved to watch the boardwalk light up at dusk, a small constellation come to earth. Beyond the twinkling lights and tinny, piped music, the sea lapped gently at the shore, the salty scent carrying past Mya’s window.  
  
       Somewhere in the city a siren began to wail, followed quickly by another, and another, and another, the cacophony growing and trailing through the winding streets. Mya wondered briefly what had happened, then quickly put it out of her head. Kingsport was a big city; if she spent her time wondering about each and every crime that happened in it she’d go mad. _ Besides,_ she reasoned,  _as long as our homegrown savior Robb Stark is on the streets, nothing bad could possibly._ She smiled. It was almost endearing to see the way Roslin would quite literally swoon over even the thought of her future husband.  
  
       Another breeze blew through the window, decidedly colder this time. Mya slid off the windowsill, pulling it shut before following Roslin to the washroom.  
  
  
       “I don’t know why you even bother with all that funny business.” Later that evening, Roslin lay stretched on her stomach, idly flipping through a magazine with one hand, blowing on the freshly-painted nails of her other.  
  
       Mya glanced up from the essay she was writing, chuckling a bit derisively. “Because I’m not insured like you are.” She nodded at the sizable diamond wobbling around on Roslin’s left ring finger. “I may have to actually sing for my supper once I’m done here.” She set her pen down, sitting up and leaning back in her chair. “Why  _are_ you here, anyway? You’re marrying into one of the oldest, richest families around. What do you need with tennis lessons or some shoddy degree you’ll never use?”  
  
       Roslin shrugged, switching hands and carefully turning a page. “It got me out of my dad’s house. Tell you the truth, he probably doesn’t know I’m gone yet.”  
  
       Mya knew Roslin had a nearly obscene amount of siblings, somewhere near two or three dozen. But her roommate very seldom offered information on them or any of her family, so Mya rarely asked. She glanced at the clock - it was after 8, and she had been scratching away at this ethics essay for what felt like days. Rubbing her burning eyes with the heel of her hand, she pushed it away. “Alright, tell me about these fellows.”  
  
      “Which?”  
  
      “Robb’s. The cute ones.”  
  
       Roslin’s face lit up in a smile, and she tossed her magazine aside carelessly, nearly taking her bottle of nail polish with it. “Well, the one I think you’d like the best, Jory, he’s known Robb his entire life. He’s a real nifty boy. There’s also Jon, his little brother, but he can be a bit of a drag sometimes. He’s only his half-brother, really, but when you meet him don’t bring that up, especially if Robb’s mother’s around, which she shouldn’t be but still. She can’t _ stand_ the fact that Robb’s dad just came home with him one day. And he’s not really that  _young_ , honestly. He’s 18 and his _hair_. ” Roslin threw her hands up. “Not as nice as Robb’s, of course, but close enough!” She slid off her bed and threw open their door. “I’m going to call Robb straight away and tell him that Saturday, the four of us are going out.” Without waiting for Mya to respond, she darted down the hall to the floor’s phone.  
  
_Well now you’re in it_ , Mya thought. Still, what’s the worst that could possibly happen? God knew she needed a break, and who knew? Maybe Jon was a halfway-decent guy. Mya felt her spirits start to lift a bit at the prospect of a night out. Roslin wouldn’t let Robb take them anywhere dull or boring, after all. If it wasn’t bright, flashy, and loud she wouldn’t like it and everyone would know.  
  
       Mya picked up her pen again, pulling her essay towards her and re-reading what she’d written. Just as she placed the nib to paper again, Roslin burst back into the dorm in tears, a hand over her mouth and her face white as a sheet.  
  
    “Roslin, what’s wrong?” Mya leaped up as Roslin collapsed onto her bed.  
  
    “It’s- God, it’s  _awful_ , Mya.” Roslin wrapped an arm across her stomach. “I was just going to call Robb, like I said, but he called at the same time and said that his father- he’s...he’s dead. He was at dinner with Bob Baratheon, and they were shot.” She covered her face with her hands, tears renewed. “It’s so awful!”  
  
    Mya sat back down, numb. The chief of police and mayor, both gunned down...”My God...poor Robb...”  
  
   Roslin couldn’t seem to sit still and moved quickly to the closet they shared, quickly pulling out clothes and dressing. “I’m going over there.”  
  
    “Do you want company? I can drive...” Roslin was shaking her head before Mya could finish.  
  
    “No, it’s alright. I’m taking a taxi. Don’t wait up for me, and if I’m not back tonight-”  
  
       “I’ll tell Fossoway. Don’t worry, just go. And be careful, Rosie” Impulsively, Mya hugged the shorter girl and kissed her cheek. “Call if you or Robb need anything.”  
  
       Roslin nodded, eyes brimming, grabbed her purse, and was gone. Mya shut the door and flipped the deadbolt, her head still spinning. The dorm suddenly seemed huge and silent without Roslin’s constant chatter. She debated opening the window again to let the city in, and thought back to the sirens she’d heard earlier. Had they been racing to Eddard Stark’s side, already too late?  
  
       Mya rubbed a hand over her face, picking up her pen again to finish her essay and putting it back down straight away. Her stomach was a cold, hard knot, and her legs felt hollow. She lay on her bed, an arm thrown over her eyes. _ Help them,_ she prayed.  _Help then, hold them, heal them._ She couldn’t even tell herself who she was praying to, but hopefully somewhere out there, her prayer was heard.


	3. The Date

“God _dammit_. ”

 

“The mouth on you...” Mya quirked an eyebrow at Roslin in the mirror.

 

Roslin swatted at Mya with her hairbrush and plopped down on her bed. “I give up. Your hair is as good as it’s going to get.”

 

“I...I have a horn, Roslin.” Mya felt her stomach twist for roughly the 400th time that day. Two weeks had passed since Ned Stark’s death when Roslin had breezed into their room, announcing she and Mya were stepping out with Robb and Jory Cassel that coming Friday. Roslin would’ve gotten Jon for Mya but, she explained, he’d been sent north to their summer home of Winterfell for family business shortly after Ned’s funeral. Roslin had speculated it was Catelyn’s doing, seeing as how she obviously couldn’t stand having the boy around while Ned was alive. Why would she keep him after his death?

 

Now, Mya fingered her hair a bit forlornly. Roslin, using a brute strength Mya hadn’t known she possessed, had manhandled her roommate in front of their mirror and had wrestled her hair into loose, wavy finger curls. Mya had to admit it didn’t look _ that_ bad...save for one lock that resolutely twisted the wrong way. And the makeup...Mya sighed. She didn’t want to think about the makeup.

 

Roslin thumbed through her magazine, yawning. “Oh, shut your gob. It’s barely noticeable. Now get dressed. They’ll be here any minute.” Her dark eyes followed Mya over the edge of her page as she pulled a simple black dress off the back of her chair. “Oh no. You’re not actually wearing that, are you?”

 

Mya paused, lowering the dress. “Maybe...what’s wrong with it?”

 

“Black? On a first date? You’re supposed to be having fun, not going to a funeral!”

 

“Fine.” Mya sighed, padding to her closet in her slip. “What about white then?”

 

Roslin snorted. “White says you’re a virgin.”

 

“I _ am_ a virgin.”

 

“No need to advertise it.”

 

“Alright...red?”

 

“Tramp.”

 

“Grey?”

 

“Wallflower.”

 

“Green?”

 

“Mick.”

 

“Purple?”

 

“I’m wearing purple.”

 

“Yellow?”

 

“Please. You can’t wear yellow and you know it. Makes you look like a summer squash.”

 

Mya swallowed her frustration and dug to the far reaches of the closet and pulled out her last hope. “Blue? Is blue alright? Because if it’s not I’m going to have to go naked, Roslin.”

 

“Let’s see it.”

 

Pulling the light fabric over her head, she turned for Roslin’s approval. The dress swirled around her knees as she tugged at it. The neck was lower than she’d normally wear, and the lack of sleeves left her feeling overly exposed.  _I may as well_ be _naked_.

  
   Mya’s stomach plummeted at the smile that spread across Roslin’s face. She grabbed Mya’s wrists. “Perfect! I’ve never seen you look so much like a girl before! Come here, now.” Pulling a dresser drawer open, she slipped a filligreed silver bracelet over one wrist, and a long, matching pendant, adjusting it so it hung in the well between Mya’s breasts. “Jory’s going to adore you, just wait!” Craning her neck at the sound of an engine outside, she peered out the window and squealed. “They’re here! Come on!” Grabbing Mya’s wrist again, she yanked the taller girl down the hall.  
  
   Descending the winding stairs, Mya tried to sooth her frayed nerves. It was just one night, after all, and then odds are she’d never see this Jory again. And if she did, so be it then. Next to her, Roslin was jabbering on.  
  
    “What?”  
  
    Roslin grinned, pulling the door open. “Oh, nothing. Just that you and Jory are going to have the  _cutest_ babies! I bet you you’ll be hitched within a year.”  
  
   Mya stared, dumbstruck, but before she could find her voice Roslin gazed past her, her brow furrowing and a scowl marring her face. She stalked ahead of Mya, striding down the sidewalk. Mya trailed after, wondering again what she’d gotten herself into.  


A long, low car was pulled up to the curb with two men leaning against it; one shorter with a thick mop of auburn curls while the second was lankier and dark, a cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers. Roslin greeted the shorter one with a long, nearly indecent kiss before turning to the taller, darker one and scowling more. “You’re not supposed to be here. Robb, why’s  _he_ here?"

  
   The darker man leaned down and pecked her cheek, seeming bored with the whole thing. “Nice to see you too, Ros.” His grey eyes flicked over Mya, and his lips quirked upwards in a crooked smile that made her feel as though she’d left her dress upstairs. “That your friend?”  
  
   Roslin sighed, unwrapping her arms from around Robb’s neck and turning back Mya. “Yes. Mya, I’m sorry. This isn’t Jory. “She glowered. “This is-”  
  
    “Theon Greyjoy.” He stepped forward, flicking his cigarette butt aside and extending his hand towards her.  
  
    “Mya.” She took it, surprised at the sinewy strength and warmth in his hand as it wrapped around hers. “Mya Stone.”  _I don’t know why Roslin’s in such a tizzy. He seems nice enough, even if he’s not Jory. No horns, no pitchfork, nothing._  
  
    Robb shouldered Theon out of the way. “Roslin’s told me all about you. Robb Stark.”  
  
    Mya smiled easily. “Good to meet you finally. I’m so sorry about your father.”  
  
   “Thank you.” Robb’s smile tightened, and for an instant she saw the weariness around his eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  
  
    “You’re all Roslin ever talks about.”  
  
    “That is not true!” Roslin broke in, her arm wrapped around Robb’s. “I talk about other things all the time!”  
  
    “Right, right, I forgot.” Mya glanced at Theon and felt her smile grow a touch. “Centaurs, occasionally.”  
  
    For once it was Roslin’s cheeks that blazed. “Anyway, Robb, you never answered. Why’d you bring  _him_? ” She jerked her head at Theon, who pulled a mock-hurt expression.  
  
    “‘ _Him_ ’, she calls me,” he said to Mya. “Like I’m just the household help.”  
  
    “That would imply you actually offered to do anything for anyone else.” Roslin snapped.  
  
   Robb held up a hand to stop the bickering. “Jory was...feeling unwell.” His keen blue eyes flicked over to Theon, who suddenly couldn’t hide his grin. “He sends his regrets.”  
  
    “I’m sure.” Roslin frowned. “Anyway, let’s not stand just stand here like sticks in the mud, yeah?”  
  
   “Jory’s just fine.” Theon kept his voice low as he ushered Mya to the passenger side of the car, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “I slipped him a twenty to tell Robb he was sick.”  
  
    Mya’s head jerked up, but before she could respond he gave a quick wink and shut the door.  
  
   “I’m sorry, Mya, really.” Roslin said from the back seat. Mya glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes widened for a split second before she turned back to face the front, feeling her cheeks flame.  
  
    “It’s no big deal. He seems nice enough.”  _And it’s hard to take your apology seriously when you’ve already got Robb’s hand in your drawers._  
  
    “That’ll wear off. Just give him time.”  
  
   The driver’s side door opened and Theon slid in, glancing to the backseat and at Mya’s blush, grinning wider. “They’re not ones to waste time.”  
  
    “Clearly.”  
  
   “Shut your gob, Greyjoy, and drive.” Robb’s voice sounded decidedly strained, and Mya didn’t have it in her to take another peek. Instead, she rested her arm along the open window, leaning her head against the headrest and looking over at Theon. He wasn’t handsome, not in a traditional sense. But, she decided, there was something about the sharp lines of his face that she liked. He plucked a fresh cigarette from his pack and held it between his lips while he accelerated, grinning again as he caught her staring. She couldn’t help but smiling back, turning her face towards the window and tucking her errant curl behind her ear.  
  
    “Ciggy?” He offered the pack to her.  
  
   Mya shook her head a bit ruefully, trying not to be distracted at how his lips curled around his own. “Can’t. If our coach found out about it he’d string me up.”  
  
    “He’s one to talk.” Roslin piped up. “How many packs a day is he up to now? 3?”  
  
    “Four, at least.”  
  
    “He’s so full of bushwa- ugh,  Robb. It’s a tit, not a radio dial. Stop trying to tune it, would you?”  
  
    Mya massaged her forehead, starting to wish someone had bribed  _her_ to fake being sick as well. The drive to the boardwalk proved to be awkward, stilted conversation punctuated by the occasional gasp or groan from the back seat.  
  
   “They’re like a pair of rabbits.” Theon muttered just loud enough for Mya to hear, letting the Rolls coast into into a parking spot overlooking the beach, hitting the brakes perhaps a bit too hard and sending Robb and Roslin careening to the floor, a tangle of limbs, clothes, and curse words.  
  
    “The hell’re you doing up there?” Robb grasped the back of Mya’s seat and hauled himself back up, pulling Roslin after.  
  
   “Dog ran in front of the car, right Mya?” Theon flicked some ash off his cigarette, winking at her as he took a long drag and slipping the car into park.  
  
    “Darnedest thing. Big Airedale darted straight in front of us.” Mya bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.  
  
   “C’mon then, you two, get a wiggle on. The night is young.” Theon glanced in the rearview mirror and chuckled. “Nice to see you’ve been keeping up on the latest in women’s lacies, Ros.”  
  
   A hand, probably Robb’s, reached up and whacked him smartly on the side of the head. “That’s enough out of you, Greyjoy. Go on, we’ll catch up in a bit.” Theon, still grinning, reached past Mya, the back of his hand grazing her knee as he flipped open the glove compartment, fishing around in it and tossing a small tin to the back seat.  
  
    “What, only one?” Robb sounded indignant.  
  
   “There’s three in there and you should be glad you even get that.” Theon tossed another tin back, catching Mya’s shocked gaze and giving a sharp smile. “Relax, doll. I just like to be prepared.”  
  
    In spite of herself, Mya felt her hackles rise slightly at the overly-familiar pet name. _ Doll nothing. I have a name, and he’d better well learn it by the end of the night._  
  
   Roslin laughed, the sound harsh and a bit breathless. “She hasn’t given it up to anyone else, Theon, and I doubt she’s about to give it up to you.”  
  
    “Roslin!” Mya felt her cheeks grow hotter, if possible, and slouched in the seat, burying her face in her hands.  
  
   “You’re a dame with discerning tastes.” Theon’s tone was rife with amusement. “Nothing wrong with that. Come on then, doll. Let’s take a hike and leave these two to it.”  
  
   Mya fumbled for the door handle, doubling over with embarrassed laughter as she nearly fell out of the car. Theon’s shadow fell across her as he crossed around the front of the car, extending his hand. Mya grasped it, straightening and wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Are they always like that?”  
  
   Theon’s grin sharpened as he exhaled, the pungent cigarette smoke making Mya’s mouth water inexplicably. “More often than you’d think.”  
  
   Slowly catching her breath, Mya gazed out over the waves mouthing along the shore, still chuckling, the tension in her stomach eased by a gentle caressing breeze. Mya wasn’t sure if it was the heady scent of the boardwalk mixed with the warm salty tang of the ocean or the relief of being away from Roslin and Robb’s amorousness, but suddenly she was feeling bold as brass. She tucked her hand into the crook of Theon’s elbow and allowed herself a wide grin.  
  
    “Show me this boardwalk then, Greyjoy. If you ask nice enough I’ll let you buy me a funnel cake.”  



	4. The Boardwalk

He had to laugh at that. “Roslin really hasn’t told you a thing about me, has she?”  
  
Mya shook her head, and Theon caught a faint whiff of perfume. It was the same scent Roslin wore, and Theon supposed girls shared things like that, but it smelled...different on Mya. Better, in his opinion. He decided to go easy on the girl, after all, she’d just been treated to the Robb and Roslin rolling boudoir show.  
  
“She’s just jealous because Robb spends more time with me than her,” he said, only half joking. “Now then, can I buy you a funnel cake, Ms. Mya Stone?”  
  
Mya pretended to deliberate a moment, looking up at him from under a thick sweep of lashes. _ Now what in blazes are you thinking about her eyelashes for? Get ahold of yourself, man._  
  
“Well...” She grinned, eyes dancing. “I suppose that was nice enough.”  
  
After getting funnel cakes, they meandered down the boardwalk towards the beach. Theon was more than a little worried about leaving Robb alone, completely discounting Roslin as anything other than a distraction. He shook his head; Robb was twenty-one now, more than old enough to look after himself, although being a man grown hadn’t stopped Ned Stark or Robert Baratheon from taking 12 and 15 slugs, respectively, to the chest and head.  
  
He turned his attention back to the girl at his side, who was staring at the freak show they were passing. Mya Stone... For some reason, the name seemed vaguely familiar to him, although he supposed it was only through the filter of Robb talking incessantly about Roslin. This Mya was quite a looker, all big blue eyes and glossy, dark hair. She was taller than Roslin, and more sturdily built, but in a lithe, athletic sort of way that made Theon think she’d probably be aces in bed. His lips curled up a bit predatorily at that, and he instinctively pulled her a bit closer.  
  
“Theon, look!” Mya was pointing, actually pointing, at the bearded lady, who was blithely playing patty-cake with the little wolf boy. The innocence of this girl was oddly attractive to Theon.  
  
He pulled her on down the boardwalk, chuckling. “You think that’s bad, you should see the district attorney’s wife. She’s got a mustache to rival any man’s.”  
  
Mya giggled. “Oh, surely not all  _that_ bad!” She took another bite of her funnel cake, licking a dab of powdered sugar from her lips in a way that made Theon want to bend down and kiss her silly...for starters.  
  
“Theon!” He was brought back to reality by her impatient tone.  
  
“Yes, doll?”  
  
“I  _said_ why’re you staring at me? And don’t call me doll.”  
  
Theon’s grin grew wider. _This one’s got some spunk to her...play it cool, though._ “No reason. Just you’ve got a bit of sugar...doll,” he said, brushing his thumb across her lips gently.  
  
“Oh...” Mya’s lips parted slightly, the soft exclamation hardly more than a sigh, and she raised her eyes to his, and he felt he could drown in those blue depths. Then, to his surprise, he felt her tongue flick out against his thumb, a brief moment of contact that sent a jolt through his body before she turned away, cheeks blazing.  
  
Theon wasn’t about to let that opportunity pass by, but he could tell from her reaction that she’d surprised herself there as well, and that he’d have to be gentle about it. He turned her by the shoulders to face him, tilting her still-rosy face up with a finger under her chin. The look on her face was a delicious mix of embarrassment, resentment and desire; it made Theon’s blood run hot, and he stepped closer, meaning to take that kiss.  
  
“Theon! Fancy seeing you here, baby brother! Qarl, baby, would you _ imagine_ that?”  
  
Theon groaned internally, but did nothing more than wink at Mya, who was smiling brightly at the voice over his shoulder. He turned to face his older sister and her entirely unsuitable boy toy, carefully keeping Mya half-hidden behind him. Which turned out to be completely useless, as she edged out from behind him, hand outstretched towards Asha.  
  
“Mya Stone. And you’re Theon’s sister? I can see the family resemblance.” Theon could hear the warmth in her voice, and he held back a wince waiting for Asha’s reply.  
  
Asha smiled back wryly, shaking Mya’s hand firmly. “I am. Older, wiser, and a far better dancer, among other things.” She looked like she’d just come from her club, her dress short on hemline and low in neckline, eyes rimmed with kohl. “This here’s Qarl, my fella.” She laughed. “Well, one of them, anyway.”  
  
Qarl didn’t offer his hand, but just nodded briefly at Mya. He was small potatoes, but distant family, and Asha’d kept him around for years, her own pet muscle. Theon had always liked Qarl, as much as one could like someone dumb as a post, but he didn’t like the way the beefy blond man was staring at him now.  
  
“Drink, anyone?” Theon pulled his flask from an inner jacket pocket, making sure to let the jacket swing open far enough for his sister and Qarl to see the Colt .38 special he was packing.  
  
He offered it first to Mya, who shook her head mutely, then passed it straight over to Asha. He’d never known his sister to refuse a drink, and today was no exception. She took a swallow and passed it to Qarl, who sniffed it suspiciously before taking an annoyingly long pull and handing it back. Seeing Asha drink must’ve made Mya bold, or maybe it was the way Theon put his arm possessively around her waist; whatever the reason, it amused Theon when she took the flask from him and took a small sip.  
  
“Thanks, little brother. Well, Qarl and I are off to the Tunnel of Love,” Asha’s little smirk was positively wicked. “Don’t be a stranger, now. Our uncles and I miss you so. Mya, pleased as punch to meet you. Careful my baby brother doesn’t try any funny business on you.”  
  
 _Bitch_ , Theon thought bitterly. _ I got the message, there was no need to gum up my gears with the broad._  
  
He glanced down at Mya, taking the flask from her and draining it before he spoke. “Where were we, now?”  
  
“You were about to win me a prize, I think.” Mya’s voice was teasing. “I do remember one thing Roslin mentioned about you... She said you were a crack shot, better than Robb even. And for her to admit someone could best Robb at something?” She laughed merrily. “You  _must_ be good!”  
  
“Oh, I am.” Theon’s smile returned as he trailed a finger up her bare arm and watched goosebumps follow the path he traced. “You won’t find a steadier hand or truer aim in the city.”  _And if it takes a stuffed bear to get in your panties, so be it._  
  
They made their way back up the boardwalk until they came across a shooting game dug into a small hillside. Unlike most of the games, it wasn’t unfair in any way, except in its difficulty. No weighted milk cans, no greased pie tins...just three small targets a hundred paces away and an old .22 rifle.  
  
The proprietor, a withered old bat, blinked at the crisp single Theon slapped down on the counter.  
  
“It’s only a nickle to play...” she trailed off, staring at the bill.  
  
“Keep it,” Theon said, taking the .22 from her and hefting it experimentally.  
  
The woman snatched up the greenback, and Mya raised her eyebrows at him. He just winked at her and turned to the range, raising the rifle to his shoulder and sighting down the barrel.

  
“So, whaddya get for a nickle, lady?”  
  
“One hit gets you a piece of rock candy,” she began, and Theon snorted disdainfully, but didn’t interrupt. “Two hits gets you a little teddy, and three gets you anything on the top shelf.”  
  
The three of them all glanced up at the top shelf, where there were a variety of absolutely enormous stuffed animals, most of them covered in dust. Theon turned to Mya with a cocky grin on his face.  
  
“Pick now,” he told her.  
  
Mya hesitated. “The...dog? No, wait, the octopus!”  
  
Theon grinned at the old lady. “Go on, granny, get it down.”  
  
He had yet to fire one shot, but with the amount of money he’d just given her, she probably would’ve just let them have the damn thing. Sure enough, she climbed right up and grabbed the octopus, smacking it feebly and coughing at the dust that flew off it.  
  
Theon turned to the range and popped off three quick shots, seemingly not even aiming, and set the gun down authoritatively. The old lady and Mya both peered down the range, and Theon sighed, accustomed to being doubted.  
  
“Go get them,” he said. “You’ll see.”  
  
The lady toddled off down the range and brought back the small targets, each of which had a neat hole directly through the middle, shaking her head wordlessly. Mya gasped and clutched Theon’s arm, grabbing her prize with the other. The legs of the giant octopus nearly trailed on the ground, and Theon grinned as he imagined her virginal panties dropping in the near future.  
  
“Happy, doll?”  
  
Mya laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Don’t call me doll, you. That was some fine shooting, though!”  
  
“C’mon, let’s go interrupt the two lovebirds...you can bet your bottom dollar Robb never won Roslin anything that fine.” Theon laughed, looking at the dusty octopus.  
  
“Oh, no, he just gave her that massive rock on her finger,” Mya retorted.  
  
Theon snickered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they made their way towards the Rolls, the windows fogged except a single handprint on the rear driver’s side. “That sparkling old handcuff? Didn’t take an ounce of skill.”  
  
Mya snuggled up against his side as they walked, fitting perfectly under his arm and snaking an arm around his waist. Theon was liking his chances more and more, and he debated on whether to kick Robb and Roslin out of the car, or to just make Robb drive. As they came up to the car, however, he decided he’d really be a gentleman and take her home...nothing like a bed for your first time. Not that Theon’d know, but he heard it was best.  
  
He rapped on the car window once before wrenching the passenger door open for Mya, ignoring the protests coming from the back seat.  
  
Mya hopped in, eyes trained firmly on the dashboard, hugging the octopus. “Look what Theon won me, Roslin! And we saw his sister and her fella-”  
  
Robb interrupted as Theon slid in the driver’s side, “You saw Asha? And who, Qarl?”  
  
Theon nodded. “The one and only.”  
  
Robb’s head popped up behind the driver’s side headrest. “Did she have any...?”  
  
“Shut up,  _Detective_ Stark.” Theon had no patience for discussion of his family or their less-than-legal ventures at this exact moment.  
  
He started the Rolls and pulled away from the boardwalk, putting a hand on Mya’s knee as she half-turned in the seat to chatter with Roslin. She glanced at him with a coy smile, but turned her attention back to her friend. Robb was doing up his pants in the back seat, but leaned forward again, voice low.  
  
“Did you get anywhere with Mya? Roslin says she’s a real sweet gal...”  
  
Theon shifted in the seat, steering with a knee so he could pull a ciggy from his pack of Lucky Strikes. “What do you think? Light me, will ya?”  
  
“I think you’ll be lucky to get a kiss from her, is what I think.” Robb reached over the seat and into Theon’s front shirt pocket and pulled out a book of matches, tearing one out and lighting it off his thumbnail. Theon turned his head slightly and Robb held the match to the end of his cigarette for a moment before shaking the flame out.  
  
They heard two giggles, and turned to look at the source. Roslin had her arms draped over the back of the front seat, and her and Mya were staring at them with ridiculous grins.  
  
“You two look like an old married couple!” Roslin exclaimed. “Robb, you light his smoke like you’ve been doing it your whole life!”  
  
Theon shifted the cigarette to the side of his mouth with a grin, and Robb flopped back into his seat, pulling Roslin back with him.  
  
“Close enough, baby, close enough,” Robb said.  
  
Mya slid closer to Theon, and he was absurdly grateful for the leather bench seat as her thigh pressed against his, the silky fabric of her dress swishing softly. He slung an arm around her shoulders, only moving it from time to time when he needed to shift gears. They chatted quietly as he drove, flirting, and when Mya put a hand on his knee, squeezing every time she laughed, Theon knew he was in.  
  
Finally, he pulled up at the rear entrance to the girls’ dormitory, parking and switching the headlights off quickly. Robb and Roslin seemed to be perfectly content in the back seat, as far as Theon could tell. He watched a moment in the rearview mirror as Robb kissed Roslin’s neck, one hand creeping under her dress, until Mya squeezed his knee again, hard this time.  
  
“Stop it,” she hissed. “Let’s get out of here!”  
  
Theon grinned and opened his door, pulling her out after him and shutting the door with a quiet thud. He didn’t let her get far, though, but leaned down, pinning her to the side of the car between his arms.  
  
“How’s that, better?” He could smell her perfume again, mixed with the scent of his smoke, and it was driving him mad.  
  
“I...” She was looking up at him through her lashes again, damn her. “Yes, much.”  
  
That was all the invitation he needed, and he tossed his cigarette aside, tilted her face up to his and kissed her long and hard. He could taste sugar and just a hint of his own liquor on her lips, and it was sweet, so sweet.  
  
When her lips parted slightly and her arms went around his neck, Theon traced her bottom lip with his tongue until her own swept out to find his, tentative at first, but growing bolder. He was surprised when she nipped at his lips, but it was a good surprise, and he couldn’t help but cant his hips into hers, pressing her against the cool metal of the car.

  
Mya pulled back, a dazed look on her face. “What...? I...we should...go.”  
  
“You’re right, we should.” Theon took her hand, pulling her around to the passenger side, ignoring the squeak of protest she made. “Just gimme a sec...”  
  
He opened the passenger door, popped the glove box and frowned.  _Only one tin left, damn those two._ He glanced in the back seat, where Roslin was sitting on Robb’s lap, running a hand through his messy curls as they kissed lazily. They seemed to be through with the heavy petting, but one never knew. Theon grabbed the last tin of rubbers and shut the door, turning to Mya with a smile as he slid them into his shirt pocket.  
  
“Shall we, then? How will you sneak me past your dorm mother?”  
  
Mya started. “What?”  
  
“You said we should go, so we’re going, dove. To your room. Don’t worry, Roslin won’t interrupt, those two can do this all night.” He smiled sharply, slipping a hand around her waist. “As can I, I assure you.”  
  
Theon never saw the slap coming, but he felt it from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. He stood, in shock, a hand to his cheek, as Mya wrenched the door to the Rolls open, smashing it into him, and pulled Roslin out bodily. Theon staggered, hanging on to the car for support; she’d flung the door with some force, and the handle had popped him right in a most sensitive spot.  
  
“Mya, what in the blazes?” Roslin was adjusting her dress, and Theon, dazed, noted she had a run in one of her stockings.  
  
“He...I...” Mya grabbed the stuffed octopus from the front seat with one hand, and dragged Roslin with the other. “You were right, it wore off.”  
  
“Theon Greyjoy, you...pig!” Roslin said, glaring at him as Robb slid out of the car and kissed her cheek, then Mya’s. “Get him out of here, Robb.”  
  
Robb just shook his head, trying not to laugh as Theon recovered, giving both girls a jaunty salute as he strode around to the driver’s side of the Rolls.  
  
“Ladies, until next time?”


	5. The Aftermath

“The  _nerve_! The sheer  _nerve_!” Mya burst through the door with Roslin still in tow, tossing her octopus down on the bed. “He talked as if he and I...as if I’d...as if it were a done deal!”

  


Roslin pulled the jeweled headband she wore off, setting it on her vanity and grinning at Mya in the mirror. “I told you...”

 

“No.” Mya pulled off first one shoe, then the other, tossing them into her closet and angrily rolling her stockings down one at a time. “Don’t say that like that. That’s the last thing I need to hear.” She threw herself down on her bed, rolling onto her side and playing idly with one of the octopus’s tentacles. “He seemed so nice, too.”

 

“Theon? Nice?” Roslin scoffed and dabbed cold cream under her eyes. “He is many things, but ‘nice’ isn’t a word I’d use. Charming maybe, but only when he wants something.” Her gaze flicked over Mya. “And honey, you are a prime target for him.”

 

“You two were no help! I hadn’t even gotten in the car and Robb was halfway up your drawers!”

 

“Oh don’t be such a prude. He was all the way up my drawers.”

 

Mya was silent, still toying with the tentacle and wondering what she’d be doing, what  they’d be doing in this very bed, no less, if she’d given into Theon’s ubiquitous charms.  _Everything Mom told you nice girls don’t do._ She pressed her lips together, forcing the thought of his touch out of her head. God, but he had a set on him. What kind of girl did he think she was, anyway? Honestly. “What’s Theon’s story, anyway? How did someone like Robb meet up with someone like him?”

 

Roslin peeled her dress and slip off, pulling a nightgown over her head. “They grew up together. Or have for the past ten years, at least.”

 

Mya frowned. “How’s that work? Are they related?”

 

“Uh-uh.” Roslin rolled onto her side, facing Mya. “You know Theon’s one of  _the_ Greyjoys, right? The mobsters?”

 

Wracking her brain, Mya tried to recall what little she knew about the infamous crime syndicate and came up with depressingly little. The name had popped up a few times in the news and on the streets, but she hadn’t paid much attention to it.  _For someone who wants to be a journalist that’s a pretty lousy habit, Stone. Start reading the newspapers._ Mya shook her head. _You’re angry at Theon, remember? You can pick apart your current events awareness tomorrow._ “I didn’t think about it...”

 

“They’ve always been into some real rough stuff, and I mean  _ rough_ , Mya. Murder, opium dens, smuggling, barrel houses, you name it, they’ve done it. The feds were always gunning for Theon’s father, Balon...about fifteen years ago, from what Robb tells me, there was a fight. A huge one. Robert Baratheon, Robb’s pops, and half the police force finally tried to take Balon Greyjoy down, but it was messy. His older two sons died in the fire-fight. Balon was taken to jail, and Asha and Theon were left behind. She was eleven, twelve maybe, and he was barely eight. I don’t know the details of it, but she got shipped off to some relatives’ care, and Ned Stark took custody of Theon and raised him like his own.”

 

“God...” Mya pushed herself up on an elbow, staring. “So real nasty business then.”

 

“It gets better. The attorney prosecuting Balon futzed up royally and they had to drop the charges. So he goes free, but wasn’t able to get his kids back. Probably for the best - as messed up as Theon is now, imagine if he’d been raised by a family of gangsters!”

 

“Still, it must be hard, being torn away from everything you know so young.” Mya hugged the octopus close, trying to ignore the faint pang of guilt as she thought about the stunned expression on Theon’s face after she’d hit him.

 

“Oh, don’t you start that.” Roslin waggled a finger at her. “The Starks gave him everything he could’ve wanted. A roof over his head, the finest education, safety, you name it, he had it, but it’s never good enough.” Roslin shrugged. “He just has too much Greyjoy in him.” Before Mya could ask what exactly that meant, Roslin’s dark eyes sparkled. “You _ have_ to tell me though...is he a good kisser?” Mya felt her cheeks blaze, thinking back on the all-too-brief sensation of his lips on hers, the lean, warm pressure of his body pressed against hers. Roslin hooted with laughter. “Oh, if you could see your face right now! Don’t worry, Mya, we’ll find you a decent fella and with any luck, he’ll be able to make you turn just as red.”

 

Mya sat up, swapping her dress for a nightgown and pulling a light sheet over her and her octopus, resting her chin on the still-dusty fibers. “Forget that. I’m not about to get set up with anyone else just so you and Robb can have an excuse to hump like rabbits in the back seat of a car.”

 

Roslin laughed. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” She flicked off her lamp; eventually, her breathing deepened and Mya knew she was asleep. She hugged the octopus tighter, burying her nose in the top. Somewhere under the dust and age, she could the sun and salt, and she smiled. Maybe she’d been too rough on Theon. Sure, he’d been awfully presumptuous to think she’d jump in bed with him mere hours after meeting him, but she could’ve told him in a more tactful manner she wasn’t that loose. When she closed her eyes she could see the way he’d squinted in the sun as he’d brushed the loose sugar from her lips, and there  was something familiar and comfortable about the way his arm had draped over her shoulders.

 

 _No_ , she told herself firmly, eyes flying open.  _He’s the kind of boy who’s after one thing and one thing only. You’re not going to see him again and you’re better off for it. Everything he did from the start was a game just to get in your panties, so just put him out of your head, Mya Stone. He’s full of it and he’s not worth the gum on the bottom of your shoes._

 

The heat broke sometime during the night, and Mya woke to a leaden sky spitting rain and a stiff wind. Recalling Roslin’s tale the night before, she pulled on a thick wool coat and shut the door quietly behind her so as not to awaken her roommate.

 

Her university’s library was situated on a large, prominent hill in the city, and Mya had always thought it appeared to be looking down on the citizens below it. It was an austere building, all brick and granite and ivy trailing along largely windowless walls. Slightly winded by the time she made it up the hill, Mya wrapped her hand around one of the brass handles and hauled a heavy door open. It shut behind her with a muffled thud, all sound seemingly devoured by the nearly holy silence within.

 

Smoothing her dress, Mya made her way down a curving flight of stairs, wincing at the noise her heels made on the marble floor. She shivered as she approached a large counter manned by someone who looked old enough to have seen the gods born, and when she gave her request he raised a woolly eyebrow. “Ugly little bit of history, isn’t it?”

 

Mya shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s for a class.” She replied vaguely, and that seemed to pacify the old man. He slid off his chair and toddled around the counter, waving her after with a gnarled hand. 

 

“C’mon then, lass. What you want is over this way.” He led her through a labyrinth of caddies, some with students bent over their books even at the early hour, but mostly empty, before reaching a door labelled “Archives”. He pushed it open, ushered Mya through, and let it swing shut behind him. 

 

This room was massive and dimly lit- she could hardly see the other side. The air was dry and thin, prickling at the inside of her nose and making her eyes burn. Once her vision adjusted to the darkness, she could see row after row of shelves with battered black boxes stacked on them. The old man led her down a row and pried one off the shelf, kicking up a large cloud of dust. Coughing, he waved a hand in front of his face and carried the box to a table, setting it down with a thud that echoed. “Careful with the microfilm,” he said, “and don’t take this box out of this room. The rolls are fragile and they’re the only copy, at least until we get more funding from on high. You kids these days have no idea how expensive this process is... When you’re done with it, come find me and I’ll put it back. You know how to use the reader?” She nodded and he turned to go, and paused. “Oh, young lady, what was your name again?”

 

Mya pried open the box, idly leafing through the carefully labelled rolls of microfilm, wondering not for the first time what on Earth she was doing here. “Mya Stone.” 

 

“You said you were a student?” He seemed suddenly suspicious. “What residence hall are you in then, Miss Stone?”

 

She glanced up, suddenly annoyed by this shrivelled old man and his questions. “Rosby Hall. Room 529 if you want specifics. Overlooks Ocean Road. Ask Mrs. Darry, she’s the dorm mother over there.”

 

The old man’s watery eyes narrowed. “Don’t sass me, girl. You just remember what I said.”

 

Mya waited until he’d shuffled out and she was alone in the cavernous room before tossing her coat over a chair and loading up the first reel of film in a dusty reader. She scrolled through it quickly - nothing of interest, nor was there anything in the second or third. Midway through the fourth she found what she was looking for.

 

“Bloodshed on Pyke!” Bold, two-inch high letters screamed. “6 Dead in Island Firefight.” The story was dated nearly fifteen years ago to the day, Mya noticed, and she scrolled down a little. The lens was out of focus and a small crack ran down the middle of it, but from what she could see the newspaper story jived with what Roslin had told her the night before. The story detailed how Balon Greyjoy’s two eldest sons, Rodrick and Maron, had been killed in an exchange of gunfire, as had an unnamed cousin of theirs and 3 of Kingsport’s police officers. 

 

A grainy picture accompanied the story, and Mya adjusted the focus to read the caption below it. “Balon Greyjoy,” it read, showing a bedraggled-looking man being shoved into the back of a police car. His eyes were aimed straight at the camera, and Mya nearly took a step back. Even in the old, worn photograph they were ice-cold and dead, full of anger. He had the kind of look that would send any sensible person running.

 

 _Keep it together, girl, it’s just a picture._ Scrolling further, skimmed the rest of the article, and the one after that. They were full of quotes from Robert Baratheon, who obviously held this bust (and himself) in high esteem, saying what a huge blow to organized crime this was, and how the citizens of Kingsport would be able to rest easier at night knowing the Greyjoys had finally fallen.

 

Only...Mya loaded the next reel of film. Baratheon’s words didn’t seem to ring true. Balon had been behind bars for the better part of a year, and in that time a new Greyjoy had risen to prominence. _ Euron. Odd name..._ She scrolled slowly through the reel, feeling her head start to pound thanks to the out-of-focus lens until a second picture caught her eye. It belonged to an article that was tucked away in the public notices section, the text as dry and curt as a textbook.

 

“State awards custody of minor Asha Greyjoy, 12, to” and here the print was smudged a bit, “Harlaw, maternal relation. State also awards custody of minor Theon Greyjoy, 8, to Eddard and Catelyn Stark.” Biting her lip, Mya examined the photo that went with the article.  Asha looked much the same - younger, of course, but her eyes had lost none of their insolent sparkle, and her lips were curled in the same smug grin they had been last night. She turned her attention to the boy in the picture, and felt something in her chest squirm. Theon, at the age of 8, had none of the self-assured cockiness his sister bore. He gazed morosely into the camera, eyes sad and...pleading? Yes...that was the only word Mya could put to the look. It was sad, she realized. Heartbreaking, even. _ He was just a boy and here he’s lost everything. The Starks may’ve given him anything he wanted but they couldn’t make him one of them, no matter what the state says._

 

Mya straightened abruptly, flicking the lamp under the reader off. She felt inexplicably sick and she knew it wasn’t from her now-throbbing head. Pulling on her coat, she had to stop herself from running out of the room, barely giving the old man a glance as she passed his counter. What had she been thinking, coming here? Why should it matter to her what had happened fifteen years ago on a craggy island out in the bay? Hadn’t she resolved mere hours ago to never let Theon Greyjoy cross the threshold of her mind again? 

 

Pushing the library’s heavy door open, she inhaled deeply, feeling the cold, damp air fill her lungs. Mya leaned against one of the columns outside the library, keeping her eyes shut tight and breathing slow until the worst of her nausea had passed. Eventually she made her way down the steps, meaning to stop at the college’s five-and-dime for some aspirin before her first class of the day.  _It doesn’t concern you._ He _doesn’t concern you._

 

Heading down the hill, Mya pulled her collar up against the chill and wondered how long she could lie to herself.


	6. Theon Does a Bad Thing

Theon drove out of the city, winding his way back to Riverrun, passing the last of his Luckies back and forth with Robb. His friend was stretched out on the bench seat, feet crossed and sticking out the window, auburn curls brushing Theon’s thigh as he shifted gears.  
  
“I’m surprised you can move, pal,” Theon said.  
  
Robb snorted. “I’m surprised  you can. Mya really smacked you one...and the door just added insult to injury.”  
  
Theon winced and snatched the ciggy back from Robb. “The door  was the injury! I tell you what, if I can’t get it up for Roz tonight...”  
  
Robb laughed at that, and it lifted Theon’s spirits a bit, even if it was at his expense. Lord knows, he hadn’t had much reason to laugh, or even smile, the past two weeks.  
  
“Roz?!” Robb was reaching up for the Lucky, and Theon took another drag before handing it down. “Mya got you that worked up, did she?” Theon just looked down at his friend, smiling, and Robb shook his head. “I don’t know why I even asked. She’s got curves, I’ll give you that. But she’s a good girl, Theon-”  
  
“Those are the most fun,” he replied, easing the car around the curved driveway of Riverrun and stopping in front of the house.  
  
Robb got out slowly and leaned in the window, shaking his head with an affectionate smile. “Go and get your fix, then.” His grin widened. “And see if you can’t pick up some more...stock from your sister.”  
  
“Why, Detective Stark, whatever do you mean?” Theon held back his laughter.  
  
“Have a good night, Detective Greyjoy. Keep your powder dry.” And with that, Robb went up to the house and Theon pulled down the driveway, watching in the rear view mirror to see that Robb entered the house.  
  
Once the great double doors were closed, and the light outside extinguished, Theon eased the Rolls out into the street, turning left and making his way back into the city. Asha’s club was on the other side of town, of course, and he knew she’d be waiting for him. Hopefully, she was the only one, although he rather doubted it. Roz would be there, of course, but he had little hope that he’d actually get lucky, even  with the dough to pay for it.  
  
As he cruised down dark streets, the pools of light formed by street lights far and few between, Theon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, anxious for a drink and a smoke. He hated seeing his family, and he just knew they’d have some task for him, some dirty deed that he’d do, if only to keep them off his back and away from Robb. Pulling into the alley where the hidden entrance to Asha’s joint was located and parking the Rolls behind her Ford, he realized that his sister had seen him out with the Stone girl earlier.  _Wonderful...someone else to worry about..._  
  
He put the thought aside as he rapped twice on the grungy door, rolling his eyes as the moronic Lucas “Lefty” Codd slid the small window open, mumbling, “What is dead...”  
  
“May never die, but rises again, harder and stronger.” Theon spit the words out, the taste of them making his mouth curl into a sneer.   
  
His brothers were dead, and his father, and the man he’d once wished was his father, too. None of them were rising again, and although he couldn’t say he truly missed any of them, the words of his family’s religion were a reminder he could’ve done without. Theon brushed past Lefty without a glance when the man opened the door; the Codds were all useless chumps, but they were incredibly loyal to his Uncle Euron, and so were planted all over the Greyjoy family’s interests.  
  
Theon strode through the club, nodding at Qarl behind the bar when he glanced significantly at the closed door at the back of the room. He saw Roz across the room and caught her eye, raising one eyebrow in an unspoken question. She gave her hips a little shimmy, the beaded fringe on the hem of her dress swirling above her knees, and Theon had to stop himself from going to her right then and there. He tapped his wristwatch and shrugged at her, and she gave him a saucy grin and shrugged right back before turning away to whisper in the ear of another man.  
  
Theon held back his sigh, entering Asha’s office and private room, locking the door behind him. Asha was lounging on the leather couch, long legs draped over...he blinked. Asha was sitting with her legs draped over Uncle Vic’s lap, head thrown back as she blew smoke rings up towards the ceiling. Vic was sitting stiffly, clearly unsure of what do with his hands, when Asha wiggled a bit.  
  
“Uncle Vic, pass me a drink, will ya?” She sounded tired, Asha did, and when Vic did as he was told, she sat up, practically in his lap, and downed the glass in one go. “Sit down, baby brother, Uncle Aeron’s in the pisser and we need him.”  
  
Theon sat opposite them, sinking into the leather club chair. He didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He took the glass Vic offered him silently, and the two of them drank as Asha laid back again, blowing a smoke ring at Theon’s face. It was quiet in the room, except for the muffled syncopation of the music from the club, but it was a familiar silence. Even when one of Vic’s massive hands settled on Asha’s calf, thumb brushing her leg gently, Theon didn’t even blink. Family was family, and the ‘shine was calming him; he couldn’t give a shit less what they did, although he didn’t think it was really anything other than Vic decided not to let Asha get to him.  
 _  
__She has a way of doing that_ ,  Theon pondered as they waited. _ Getting to men. Always has, the little bitch. She got Uncle Rodrik to take her, even though he wouldn’t take me._  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when the youngest of his uncles, Aeron, the priest, entered the room from the hidden back door, opposite where Theon had come in. He nodded at Theon, frowned at Vic and Asha on the couch, neither of whom moved a hair, and sat in the chair next to Theon.  
  
“Go on, nuncle,” Asha said, sounding bored. “Tell them what he wants.”  
  
Aeron turned slightly to face Theon. “He wants you to take a man out for him,” he said, not wasting any time. “You, not Victarion. Although Victarion is to go with you. You will both report back to me here, at which time Theon can go...home,” Aeron spit the word out, “And Victarion, you will return to Pyke.”  
  
Vic scowled at the use of his full name, and spoke for the first time. “What’s the point of this, brother? If I’m not needed...”  
  
“You are needed,” Aeron interrupted. “I did not speak of it with Euron, but clearly this is a test, a trial. You are the judge and jury.”  
 _  
And executioner, if need be._ Theon was grateful Aeron had left that out, even though it was clear from his tone and Vic’s expression that it was implied. He drained his glass, giving himself a moment to think, before speaking.  
  
“A test? Have I not proven my commitment to the family? I’ve done everything asked of me.”   
  
Theon knew this line of reasoning was worthless, he didn’t even know why he was bothering. The order had come down from Euron, the eldest of the remaining Greyjoy brothers, and the heir apparent to Balon Greyjoy’s stranglehold on organized crime in the city. Asha hated him, as did his brothers, but they all served him faithfully. Hell, Vic even lived in the same house as him, the ramshackle mansion called Pyke, sprawled across the island, also called Pyke, in the bay. Theon wondered how Uncle Vic could stand to live there, after what’d happened before, but he didn’t have time to think about that now.  
  
The three of them were staring at him, and it was Asha who spoke first. “We know you have, Theon. But if he wants you to do this, you better just shut your pie hole and do it.” She sat up and tucked herself against Vic’s side, taking his glass from him and sipping it with a small smile. “Uncle Vic will be with you, it’ll be fine.”  
  
Theon frowned. “I can take care of myself, that’s not what I’m worried about. I’ve planted evidence, destroyed evidence, arrested people under false pretenses...I’ve done anything and everything. But knocking off someone...”  
  
Vic looked at him blandly. “We do what needs to be done, nephew. Unless you’re losing your nerve?”  
  
Asha laughed at that, elbowing her uncle in the side when he didn’t even crack a smile. “Nerve? Since when did ickle baby Theon have any of that, unc?” She leaned across him, pouring herself another drink, and Theon could practically hear Aeron gritting his teeth.  
  
“You’re too harsh on him, girl,” Vic said. “He’s done well for us, don’t take that from him. But now we’ll see if he’s really got guts.”  
  
Theon stood abruptly. “Enough jawing, let’s go do it, then. Asha, I want Roz ready for me when I get back.”  
  
Asha snorted. “You can want all you like, doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen.” Her face softened a bit. “But I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
Theon turned away as Asha went from being half way in Vic’s lap to all the way, bare feet tucked under her, and pulled his head down, whispering in his ear. She was in deadly earnest, he could tell by the way she was poking a finger into Vic’s broad chest, but his face was impassive, even when she stopped whispering and flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Vic put one arm around her, squeezing for just a moment, before sliding her off his lap and standing awkwardly.  
  
Vic and Asha had always been close, but this...he didn’t know what to make of it, and obviously Aeron didn’t either, as he stood and went to Asha’s desk, jotting something on a pad of paper. Theon waited uncomfortably, not a familiar sensation for him, as Vic shrugged into his suit jacket, ignoring Aeron at the desk. But the priest was not one to be ignored, and he stepped between his brother and his nephew, handing Vic the scrap of paper he’d been writing on.  
  
Vic read it, nodded, and handed it to Theon. “I know where to find him. We won’t be long...he’ll be blotto, no doubt.”  
  
Theon glanced at the name, but he didn’t recognize it, a fact he was grateful for. He’d shot men before, in the line of duty, and some of them had died, but this was completely different. He was many things, most of which were far from the Stark’s damn honor and duty, but until today, he’d been able to say he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.   
  
He tucked the scrap of paper into the inner pocket of his jacket, and then Vic was pushing him out the door, not ungently, but insistently. He glanced back, and Asha waggled her fingers at him with an insouciant grin, apparently far less concerned about him than she was about their uncle.  
  
As they exited the club, Vic flipped him the keys to an old, nondescript Chevy. “You drive, boy. You do enough of it for your buddy.”  
  
 _So they have been keeping a close eye on me..._ Theon felt his stomach twist with something like dread, but he just caught the keys and slid behind the wheel, trying to concentrate on the task ahead. As he pulled out of the alley, he noted that although the jalopy they were driving wasn’t pretty, it had a V8 under the hood, and more power than the Stark’s Rolls, even.  
  
“I’ll give him a few good whacks first, make it look random, then you pull the trigger. You can use my .44, only bulls use a .38.” Vic, usually taciturn, couldn’t seem to shut up tonight. “Right here, and down three blocks.”  
  
Theon turned, gunning it and relishing the roar of the engine. “I  am a bull, you fool. If I’d known I was gonna bump someone off, I’d’ve brought my own piece.”  
  
“You’re a Greyjoy, first and foremost. Sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.” Theon glanced at Vic, annoyed. A lecture was the last thing he needed, tonight of all nights, but his uncle continued. “Loyalty to the family, above all, nephew. Now, your sister...Asha understands-”  
  
Theon cut him off. “Oh yeah, Asha seemed...well, I guess you could call it  loyal, when she was curled up in your lap earlier. Never took you for the type-”  
  
He stopped talking hastily as he felt a cold, round circle nudge his neck, just below his ear.  _Did he just...? Sonuvabitch pulled his gun on me._ Theon swallowed hard as he heard Vic cock the gun, deliberately slowly.  
  
“Not another word about things that don’t concern you, boy. Now stop. We’re here.” Vic shoved the gun back in his waistband, and Theon breathed a sigh of relief as he braked and parked in front of a ramshackle, boarded up department store.  
  
“Here?” Theon tried not to let the doubt in his voice sound too disdainful, but it was hard.  _What in the blue blazes would their man be doing here?  
_   
“Here.” Vic said with finality as he got out of the car, rolling his shirtsleeves up. “He gets bent and comes here to scrounge for scrap metal. He’s a worthless gimp, I don’t know what use my brother ever had for him.”  
  
The two of them went to the door of the building, but it looked to be solidly locked up, as far as Theon could tell. “Maybe there’s a back way in?”  
  
Vic just glanced at him contemptuously before kicking the door in and shouldering his way past the rubble blocking the doorway. Theon followed after, annoyed. _Sure, let’s just let every bum and hobo in the place know we’re here..._ And sure enough, a little rat of a man came scurrying down the grand staircase, squeaking when he saw them, and trying to change course.  
  
Vic strode forward and grabbed the man by his collar, lifting him clear off the stairs to look him in the eye. “We want the gimp. Seen him around?”   
  
The man just stared, wide-eyed. Theon supposed Vic did make an intimidating sight, tall and broad as he was, a permanent scowl etched across his face and sinewy scars crisscrossing his arms. Vic shook the man slightly, and his teeth clicked together audibly.  
  
“Alright, alright!” The man’s voice was reedy and whining. “He’s upstairs. Don’t hurt me, I ain’t done nothin’!”  
  
There was a surprisingly quiet “snap”, and then Vic was dropping the man’s lifeless body behind him as he continued on up the staircase. Theon stepped over the corpse distastefully, although he recognized the need for absolute secrecy, probably better than Vic did. After all, he had a lot more to lose than someone who was  known to be mobbed up.  
  
Theon went slowly, avoiding rotten steps and the odd nail sticking out, but when he reached the top of the steps, he was greeted with the sight of his uncle already at work. Vic had thrown his tie over his shoulder, slipped his suspenders down, and was methodically beating a one-legged man into a bloody pulp. The man’s face was a mess of blood, snot and tears, and he was making choked sounds through the ruin of what had been his mouth.  
  
Dust motes drifted lazily as Theon leaned against the newel post at the top of the stairs, idly spinning the loose finial as he watched his uncle work the man over. He’d seen, and indeed, given, beatings in his line of work, but nothing like what Vic was delivering to this sad sack. Theon just hoped the vicious beating didn’t get so out of control as to knock over the kerosene lamp on the floor nearby. That was the  last  thing they needed, to burn down half a block for some worthless old drunk.   
  
Finally, Vic turned to him, blood-spattered and grim, and held out his snub-nosed .44. Theon reached for the gun, then paused and pulled a pair of driving gloves out of his back pocket, pulling them on slowly.  
  
Vic snorted. “Think I’m going to squeal on you, boy? Like I said before, loyalty to the family. You’re a piss-poor Greyjoy, but you are one, all the same.”  
  
Theon just shrugged and took the gun, hefting it in his hand as he approached the one-legged man. He was used to distrusting family and friends alike, and this was a serious matter...it never hurt to be careful. Thankfully, the man was unconscious, an easy target. Theon glanced at his uncle, who was trying to wipe the blood from his face, but only succeeding in smearing it around.  
  
The gimp twitched on the floor, and Theon cocked Vic’s Colt and emptied the clip into the man’s torso. He could feel blood, hot and slippery, spatter his face, but he just stood and watched as the man bled to death on the floor of the perfume department. Eventually, Vic put a heavy hand on his shoulder, and pulled him away.  
  
“You did good, Theon,” his uncle said, leading him down the crumbling stairs. “I’ll make sure my brother knows it.” It was the first time in a long time that Theon could recall hearing either praise, however scant, or his name, pass from the lips of his uncle. If he were being honest with himself, it felt good, damn good. He handed the gun back to Vic as they walked out the kicked-in door, and slid behind the wheel of the car.  
  
As they headed back to Asha’s joint, nephew and uncle shared a flask back and forth. The car was silent, save the roar of the engine and the hiss of the tires on wet cobblestones. It’d begun to rain, a cold sideways deluge, while they were doing Euron’s dirty work, and the roads were slick. When they pulled back into the alley they’d started out from, Theon was pleased to see Qarl and Lefty Codd loading up the trunk of his Rolls with crates stamped “Vinegar”. No vinegar, that, but straight-up hooch, and he was glad to be restocked.   
  
Vic turned to him as he killed the ignition. “Theon, listen. It’s about to get hot, boy. Real hot. And when the time comes...” He paused, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “You’d best stick with your family, you hear me? You did good tonight, proved yourself...don’t let it be a waste.”  
  
“Uncle...” Theon was speechless, a rare occurrence. “I’m a Greyjoy. But even I have my limits...”  
  
Vic nodded. “We know. The Starks are untouchable.” His sudden smile was unsettling, mainly because Victarion Greyjoy almost never smiled. “By you, anyway.”  
  
“Oh fuck off, Uncle.” Theon was bloody, tired, and still sore about not getting any action from the Stone dame earlier. He got out of the souped-up Chevy and made for the door of the club, ignoring the loud SLAM of the passenger door behind him.  
  
His uncle Aeron opened the door before he could even knock, and Asha was standing behind him with two large tumblers of whiskey. Not rotgut ‘shine, but actual, honest-to-god whiskey. Theon’s mouth went dry at the thought of it, and when Aeron raised an eyebrow at him, he just gestured at his bloody shirt and shouldered his way past him to his sister.  
  
“Sweet, sweet Asha!” He kissed her on the cheek and took one of the whiskeys from her, draining it right there in the hall. “Your baby brother’s a killer, are you happy?”  
  
She rolled her eyes at him, wiping a bit of blood off his cheek with a tiny smile. “Always with the dramatics, you. Roz is taken at the moment...you want to wait?”   
  
Theon debated a moment, but he was dog-tired, and was due to testify in court the following morning. Roz was good, but not worth over-sleeping and being held in contempt of court for.  
  
“Another time,” he replied, but Asha was already past him and handing the second glass of whiskey to Vic, her fingers brushing his as he took the glass from her.  
  
Aeron and Vic were speaking in low tones, and he saw them both glance at him. Aeron nodded after a minute, seemingly satisfied, and motioned to Theon.  
  
“You’re absolved of your sin, nephew. Go home, and sleep the sleep of the just.”  
  
Theon blinked twice, but didn’t argue. “Thanks a million, uncle. I’m sure I will.” He turned away from Aeron’s disapproving gaze, and left the club, holding the door for Qarl and Lefty as they ran to get out of the driving rain. The temptation to trip Lefty as he ran past was too great to overcome, and Theon backed out of the alley laughing like a nutjob thinking about the look on the idiot’s face.  
  
The drive back to Riverrun was uneventful, and he merely threw out his bloody clothes when he finally reached the safety of the guest house he called home. Theon paced for a bit, still wound tight from the night’s events, but eventually his weariness overcame it all, and he crawled into his bed, which was lonelier than usual. For once, he didn’t dream at all.


	7. Denial

A week passed, and Mya found herself at another library at the end of another raw, wet night. Rubbing her eyes, she closed the stack of books she’d been taking notes from, piling them rather unceremoniously on a cart and stretching. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and her eyes widened. “Oh son of a-” It was just past ten. Unless she hustled, she was going to miss the last bus back to campus, and would also miss her dormitory’s curfew.  I’m gonna catch Hell from Mrs. Darry.

 

Quickly gathering her bag and coat, Mya raced down the city library’s stairs only to see her last hope pulling around the corner. “Wait!” She yelled uselessly, trying to catch up with the bus. “Aw, come  on! ” It was no use. The bus had gone. “ Dammit. ” Mya muttered under her breath. She sighed, turning up her collar against the damp. It wasn’t a terribly long walk back to campus, only three or four miles, but it would take longer than she would’ve liked and at this rate she wouldn’t make it back till close to midnight.

 

Keeping her head down, Mya set off at a brisk pace, turning the notes she’d taken over in her head as she walked. She had a paper due detailing the history of journalistic and political corruption, an assignment she got the feeling her professor relished in assigning. Mya’d found a fair amount of information to start working with, and she thought on the newspaper tucked in her bag. She’d glanced at an article that had piqued her interest, and she meant to look into it further. After 3 weeks of stalling, the City Council had approved Robert Baratheon’s wife, Cersei Lannister, as his successor instead of his deputy mayor, and not very many people were happy with the change in procedure. Mya didn’t pretend to have a vast political knowledge, but something about the whole thing rang sour with her. _I’d love to get a hold of the part in his will where he said that little tidbit. So would a lot of folks, I bet._

 

Her mind wandered to the articles she’d read last week, and try as she might, she hadn’t been able to get them out of her head. _Stop that_ , she told herself sternly, turning a corner. _Remember, he’s nothing to you anyw-_

  
“Hey there, baby.” A hoarse, slightly slurred voice sounded from a recessed doorway, and Mya groaned internally. _Great, just what I need. Another drugstore cowboy looking for a good time._ She ignored the voice and kept walking, wincing at the sound of footsteps following after her.  
  


“Aww, come on, doll. All’s I want to know is if you have the time.” She gritted her teeth and stopped, pointing to a clock on the corner.

 

“Half-past ten.” Mya turned to go, hoping that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The man...boy, really, once she looked at him, stumbled after her and draped an arm over her shoulder. She made a noise of disgust and shrugged him off. “Ugh, get  _off_ , would you?”

 

“I know a fantastic little place that just happens to be open at half-past ten on a Wednesday.” The boy leered down at her and she wondered fleetingly if he was drunk, stoned, or just plain stupid.  Very likely a combination of all three . “Whadaya say I show you whereabouts it is?”

 

Mya sighed and stopped, jabbing a finger into the boy’s bony chest. “What do  you say I pop you hard enough you piss your own teeth for a week?” Her mother would’ve slapped her for the language, but Mya didn’t care. She was tired, water had sluiced into her shoes when she hadn’t seen a puddle, she’d twisted her ankle at tennis practice, and she still had a long, cold walk ahead of her. 

 

The boy finally seemed to get the hint, holding up both hands and backing off. “Easy there, sweetiepie. No need to get all vicious.” He shook his insolently blond head and headed back to his drugstore stoop, muttering something about she-dogs being in heat. Mya’s glare followed him until he was out of sight and only then did she allow herself to continue on towards home. It was a matter of seconds after she’d turned away that a sinewy, strong hand grasped her upper arm, and Mya lost her cool.

 

“I told you _no_!”, she exclaimed, turning on the spot and driving her knee upwards. It made contact with the person behind her who immediately dropped to his knees, groaning loudly.

 

“God _damn_ , doll...” The figure raised his head and Mya clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping.

 

“Oh my- Theon, I’m so sorry! I thought you were-...someone else...” She trailed off feebly, kneeling next to him on the damp sidewalk and placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

 

Theon coughed, trying and failing to give her a crooked smile despite his watering eyes. “As ok as one can be for being able to taste their own balls in the back of their throat.”

 

Mya grimaced. “I’m so sorry, honest. There was just this kid giving me some grief and I thought you were him...”

 

“Nope.” Theon said in a tight voice. He got carefully to his feet, extending a hand to Mya. She pulled herself up. “Although I have to say, that’s an excellent defense.” Mya winced again, not sure what to do and settling on averting her gaze as Theon adjusted his trousers. He gave a sigh of relief, his smile coming more naturally. “No lasting harm done, although I suppose time will tell...”

 

Trying to ignore the flush creeping up her cheeks. “Oh, God, Theon, if I’d’ve known it was you...”

 

“You’d’ve gone for my face, no doubt.” He grinned, cocky again, and adjusted his trench coat. “What’re you doing in this part of town this late at night, now? ‘s not the place I’d expect to find you.”

 

Mya wrinkled her nose. “I was at the library and lost track of time. I missed the last bus and don’t usually carry cab fare. What about you? What’re  you doing down here?”

 

“Checking in on a suspected barrel house.” Theon shrugged, and she realized suddenly how tired he looked. His tie was loosened under his unbuttoned collar, and he had more than a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. He pulled a wrinkled pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket, popping one into his mouth and lighting it in one fluid motion. Mya swallowed hard as the scent wafted past her, her mind wandering back to the last time she’d smelled that particular brand... _and tasted it. God it tasted so good on him_...She blinked. _Get a hold of yourself, girl. You’re not about to go weak in the knees for this one, remember?_

 

Theon was looking at her expectantly, and she shook herself out of her reverie. “What?”

 

He waved the pack in front of her again, an eyebrow cocked. “You sure you don’t want one?”

 

Mya felt her resolve crumble as she met his gaze. “Fine, but don’t tell anyone.”

 

Theon grinned and plucked a cigarette from the pack, touching the filter to her lips. She held it there, and he tipped her chin up, touching the glowing end of his own to hers until it caught, and she inhaled, feeling the nicotine flood her system like a long-lost love. She smiled blissfully, her eyes drifting shut, and heard him chuckle. “Atta girl.”

 

She cracked an eye and couldn’t help but feel her smile grow. “Thanks for the ciggy, but I’m afraid I really must be off. I’ve already missed curfew and I’m going to have a heck of a time explaining where I’ve been.”

 

Theon nodded back to the corner where, Mya saw, his Rolls was parked. “C’mon then, I’ll give you a lift. Girl like you shouldn’t be wandering the streets this late at night.” He went to sling an arm over her shoulders, but paused. “If I touch you you’re not going to hit me again, are you?”

 

Mya laughed and poked him in the ribs. “Not this time, no.” 

 

He led her to his car, holding the door open for her before sliding in the driver side and turning the ignition. Mya looked over at him in the faint orange glow of the streetlights, at the hollow of his cheek. “Theon, listen...” He glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry about the other night, when I...”

 

“Introduced me to your palm?” He winked. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, doll. It’s not the first time it’s happened and it’s surely not the last.”

 

Mya waited to see if he was going to apologize in turn for being so fresh with her, but as he weaved through the wet city streets, it became evident he had no regrets about what had happened. _Typical,_ she thought. _I suppose it doesn’t matter. Remember, he’s nothing to you. Gum on your shoe._ She took a long drag on her cigarette, feeling herself relax a hair.

 

Theon cruised to a stop at a red light, and she felt his eyes on her. “I’m actually glad I ran into you tonight, Mya.”

 

She looked up at him, feeling she was smiling a bit like a fool and hating herself for it. “And why’s that, Theon?”

 

“Well, see, I’ve got these two tickets to the show at the Blue Room, and they’ve been burning a hole in my pocket while I tried to figure out who’d want to go with me. I thought about Robb, but he’s not really one for jazz.” He accelerated smoothly as the light flicked to green. “Thought about Ros, but she’s more likely to push me down a flight of stairs. That, and she’s too chatty. So I thought to myself, what about that pretty little Mya Stone?” He tapped some ash off the end of his cigarette and looked at her. “So what do you say? Unless you have other plans for Saturday? It’s the least you can do after...” he gazed at his lap a bit mournfully. “I mean, you may’ve ruined me for other women.”

 

_He’s honestly asking me out again, after everything? My goodness..._ Mya’s stomach flip-flopped as she adjusted her bag on her lap.  _Gum on my shoe._ “Third in line? How can I turn down an offer like that?” She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Pick me up at 7.”

 

Theon turned the corner, pulling up to the rear entrance of her dorm and putting the car in park. He turned to face Mya, reaching over and tucking her hair behind her ear, his expression hard to read. She smiled a bit as he cupped her face, avoiding his gaze.  _He is nothing to you._ “I should go. Mrs. Darry’s going to be cheesed enough...”

 

Theon rested his arm across the back of the seat, toying with what remained of his cigarette. “I’m sure being walked to the door by a trusted member of Kingsport’s finest wouldn’t help matters at all, would it.”

 

Mya loooked him over in his rumpled clothes, tired appearance, and cocky grin, and couldn’t help but smile back.  “A police escort? No, that’d only make things worse.”

 

Theon looked affronted for a split second before laughing. “Would it help if she knew I was the police escort that won you a giant octopus that, from what the rumor mill is saying, is saving me a place in your bed?”

 

“What?!” Mya recoiled back against the closed car door, mortified. “Who- who told you that?!” 

 

“Robb heard it from Roslin. She thinks it’s adorable and frankly, I’ve never been more jealous of a stuffed carnival prize.”

 

Mya buried her face in her hands, sure he could see her blush even in the dark. “I’m going to kill her and hide the pieces.”

 

“As an officer of the law I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Theon chuckled. “For what it’s worth, if the old bat’s going to be mad she may as well be infuriated. What’s another few hours?”

 

Mya pursed her lips, giving Theon a disapproving look. “And what is there to do in Kingsport on a school night that can occupy a few hours?” She swallowed hard as he slid across the front seat, resting a hand high on her leg.  _He doesn’t learn quickly, does he._

 

“I have a few ideas...” His lips grazed her temple and her eyes drifted shut against her will. Don’t let him do this, do not let him do this. He’s nothing to you, remember? Less than nothing.

 

She cleared her throat, trying to scoot away from his insistent hands and intoxicating scent. “Tell me about this place we’re going.”

 

Theon’s lips grazed down her cheek and jaw, settling against the side of her neck. “The Blue Room? It’s a nice place...ritzy. Old. Exclusive. A little stuffy, but not too bad. Fantastic veal.”

 

“So long as it’s not some sort of dive.” Mya felt him chuckle at her words, the sound starting somewhere deep in his chest.

 

“C’mon, doll.” He lifted his head, grinning a little drowsily at her. “You really think I’d take you to anything less than the best?”

 

“I don’t know, to be honest.” God, but up close his eyes were magnificent, grey flecked with bits of blue and green and a hint of gold in the right light. In spite of herself, Mya felt her heart speed up. “You say the veal’s good, but how’re their funnel cakes?”

 

Theon grinned widely, chucking her under the chin. “Not sure, dove. The boardwalk may have a corner on the market for those, but we’ll try them and see.” He tilted his head, brushing his lips lightly over Mya’s. “We’ll try every damn funnel cake in the city if you want.”

 

_He’s nothing to..._ Mya caught his lower lip between hers for a split second before releasing it, suddenly feeling lightheaded. “Theon?”

 

“Yes doll?”

  


"I need to go...it’s late.” She caught his hand as it started to slide lower over her hip, pulling it away from her body.

 

His lips were on hers again, gently prying. “It’s hardly eleven.”

 

“And I have an 8 o’clock class.” Mya placed a finger over his lips, pushing them away gently, furrowing her brow as she took him in again. “You look tired too...go home. Get some sleep, Theon.”

 

Theon smiled tightly, easing off her and sitting back, sighing. “You’re not wrong there.” He shook his head, resting the heel of his hand on the steering wheel, looking as though he were about to say more, but stopping himself. He looked away for a moment, and when he glanced back his cocky, crocked smile was firmly in place. “Give us a kiss then and go make that octopus earn its place in your bed.”

 

Mya leaned over and kissed his cheek chastely. “Thanks for the ride, Detective. And I’ll see you on Saturday, right? At seven?”

 

He nodded. “Seven sharp.”

 

She gathered up her bag and smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” Pushing the car door open, she slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried to the door, glancing back over her shoulder. Theon was still parked, and he had a funny little smirk on his face as he watched her walk. Mya laughed to herself as she let the dormitory door shut after her.  _He’ll never be nothing to you, Stone. Face it._

  
\------------------------------------------   
  


“Where have you been? ” Roslin was on Mya the second she got to their room. “You were supposed to be back hours ago! I was about to call Robb and have him send the hounds out after you!”

 

“Oh baloney. I’m completely copacetic.” Mya hung her coat on the hook by the door and bit the inside of her cheek to stop the smile that threatened to become permanently etched on her face. “I was just at the library and lost track of time.”

 

“You were not, I went there to look for you!” Roslin hugged her pillow to her chest. 

 

“The city library, numskull. You didn’t go there, did you?”

 

“Oh...no.” The smaller girl chewed her lip. “Sorry, it’s just that ever since they found that bum all beaten and shot up in the old Bloomingworth’s store, I’ve been jumpy. It’s not that far from here.”

 

“Oh Rosie...” Mya sat on Roslin’s bed and wrapped her arms around her roommate. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

 

“Just don’t walk that far by yourself. They have a pay phone, use it and call Mrs. Darry. She’ll send a cab or something.” Roslin inhaled slowly. “You reek of smoke.”

 

“Roslin, would you relax? I didn’t walk.” Mya tucked her legs under her, fiddling with a loose thread on Roslin’s bedspread. “I got a ride.”

 

“From who?” Roslin’s eyebrows knit together for a moment before her eyes lit up. “One of the redheads from the tennis courts! Eloise Hedgen said that Jane said that Michael said that one of them wanted to ask you out!”

 

“What? No!” Mya shook her head, feeling somewhat derailed by the abrupt shift in Roslin’s emotions. “No, I bumped into Theon.” 

 

Roslin groaned. “Oh, Mya, I’m sorry. He’s such a cad. I still feel terrible about that whole debacle with the Boardwalk and...ugh. I’ve read Robb the riot act a fair number of times over it, don’t you think I haven’t.”

 

Mya laughed, swatting at Roslin with a pillow. “Oh ease up, would you? He was nice enough to give me a ride home and not make me walk the three miles back here. I think you just have the wrong impression of him.”

 

“The wrong impression? Mya, I’ve known him for years. You’ve met him twice now.  You’re the one with the wrong impression, doll. Trust me. If he shows any interest towards you it’s only because he wants what’s between your legs.”

 

“Oh please.” Mya huffed, sliding off Roslin’s bed. “Even if he does he’s not going to get it. Not tonight, and certainly not on Saturday when he takes me to the Blue Room.” She glanced over her shoulder and had the satisfaction of seeing Roslin’s jaw drop.

 

“He’s taking you  where ?” She squeaked. “Robb’s never even suggested going there! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get in?”

 

Mya shrugged, pulling a comb through her hair and smiling to herself. “He said he got tickets. I didn’t ask how.” 

 

“You lucky!”

 

“He was going to ask you, but he didn’t think you’d be up for it. That, and he suggested you wouldn’t enjoy his company. No idea where he got that idea.”

 

Roslin scowled. “He’s not wrong on that last bit. I just can’t believe you’re going there before I do! Maybe Robb and I can have the wedding there...is that gauche, do you think?”

 

“You’ve been busting my gums since I walk in the door and acting all personally wounded because I get to go someplace nice, and then you ask me if this nice place is gauche?” Mya shook her head, slipping between her sheets. “Sometimes I think you’re a bit of a headcase.” She propped herself up on an elbow. “What’s eating you about Theon, anyway? Just give him a chance.”

 

Roslin rolled her eyes for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. “Just be careful around him, Mya. He’s not always on the up and up.”

  
\------------------------------------------   
  


“Miss Stone, a word, if you please?” Mya paused, about to leave her last class that Friday, and turned to face her professor.

 

“Yes sir?”

 

“I got your note yesterday about rites of mayoral succession and what it takes to change them.” Her professor was descending the stairs from his podium a bit awkwardly, given his stunted legs. “Walk with me, and we can discuss it.”

 

Mya kept her pace slow, matching the shorter man’s as he led her down a sun-drenched hall, stopping in front of a door at the very end and unlocking it, ushering her in. “Please, have a seat.” 

 

She perched on the edge of a rich leather chair while he pottered around the office, accepting a cup of coffee from him and waiting till he’d clambered up into his own chair on the other side of a sprawling, littered desk. Tenting his fingers under his chin, he gazed at her shrewdly. “Now, tell me Miss Stone, what’s your interest in this?”

 

Mya shifted in her seat a bit uncomfortably. “It just seems odd, doesn’t it? I mean, Kingsport has a deputy mayor for the sole reason of taking over in case something happens to the mayor himself. Or herself,” she added as an afterthought. “So how is it that his wife is suddenly named mayor instead?”

 

“Well, there are a couple things you have to remember. First off, it wasn’t sudden. It took a good two three weeks for the City Council to approve her. Bob...Robert, I should say, did sign an edict naming Cersei Lannister his successor should he become unable or unfit to perform his duties.” Her professor took a sip of his own coffee, the autumn sun glinting in his mismatched eyes. “The ink was very nearly dry on that piece of paper when he got half his chest blown off. Very coincidental, don’t you think?”

 

“Oh, I-...” Mya wasn’t sure what to say to that

 

He waved a hand. “Forget that last part. The walls in these parts have ears, sad to say. The last thing you want to do is get sucked into the political quagmire that is Kingsport, dear girl. Now, the second thing you have to remember about Cersei is who her father is. Twyin Lannister has had his eye on City Hall for years. Decades, even. There were rumors of him actually running for it or even for a Senate seat, but that’s all they were in the end, rumors. Somewhere along the line he managed to pass his lust for power onto his little girl, and now thanks to Robert being in the wrong Italian restaurant at the right time, she’s exactly where he wants her. In power.”

 

Mya sat back, letting his words sink in. “Are...are you suggesting he was involved with Robert Baratheon’s murder? And Ned Stark’s?”

 

“That would be downright irresponsible of me to suggest something like that, now wouldn’t it.” Her professor’s tone was amused as he idly spun a signet ring on a short, thick finger. Mya saw it had an intricate lion’s head engraved on it.

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

The older man shrugged. “I would just love to get a look at that edict to see the signature on it. Robert was fond of his brandy, as it was widely known. Sometimes he’d sign just about anything to come in front of him. And as for why I’m telling you, well, you just asked the right questions.” He looked levelly at her now. “I’d be interested in seeing what you find, should you pursue this.”

 

Mya swallowed hard and nodded.  What does he want me to do, break into City Hall and prove the mayor was drunk? What? “I’ll...I’ll keep you in the know.”

 

“Good girl. Get out of here now. It’s a Friday night. You should be out doing whatever it is you crazy kids do on Friday nights.” He waved her off. “Also, don’t forget that ethics paper due next week.”

 

Mya nodded as she stood. “Right, I’m nearly done, just need to find a few more sources.”

 

“Try the city library. Tell them I sent you and they’ll let you into their secret vault.” Her professor paused. “Maybe that’s not the best idea. I’m afraid I’ve got a bit of a reputation in certain circles that...well, let’s just leave it at that, shall we Miss Stone?”

 

“Whatever you say, Professor.” Mya made a quick exit, her head spinning. She hurried down the hall and down the steps, chewing the inside of her lip. _He as good as told me his own father killed the mayor and Robb’s father..._ What was she supposed to do with that? Part of her wanted to run straight to the police station and tell them everything, but. _.No, I have no evidence. It’d be his word against mine._ Tomorrow night, she decided. As much as she didn’t want to bring up the messy, horrific murders with Theon, she’d tell him what she knew.

 


	8. The Blue Room

“Detective Greyjoy, Detective Greyjoy!”  
  
Theon stopped on his way out the door of the precinct, hands balled into fists. “What is it, Lannister?”  
  
Lancel Lannister skidded to a halt, but his smooth-soled shoes slid on the freshly waxed floor, and he crashed into Theon’s back, propelling them both into the heavy oaken door with a thud.  
  
“Goddamnit, Lannister, you goof,” Theon shrugged the smaller man off, sorely tempted to pop him one in the kisser. “Now whaddya need? I’ll give you thirty seconds.”  
  
Lancel blinked rapidly, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes, where it promptly fell again. “I...Detective Stark told me to catch you. Said he needs a favor. H-he w-w-wants...”  
  
“Spit it out, I haven’t got all day.”  
  
“He...” The little blond weasel looked apprehensive, and if he said Robb wanted Theon back in the squad room, he was going to get a swift kick in the rear. “HewantstheRollsandhewantsyoutotakeasquadcar!” The words came out in one long rush, and Theon caught the gist of it, but not the exact words. He shouldered the Lannister idiot up against the door, staring him down.  
  
“Come again?”  
  
Lancel swallowed hard and repeated himself at a more measured clip. “Detective Stark wants the Rolls. He requested,” a cough here told Theon it had been more of an order than a request, “that you take a squad car. Just for the night.”  
  
And then Lancel Lannister committed not his first error, but the one that earned him a bloody nose and split lip. He smiled tremulously, and held up the keys to one of the precinct’s squad cars. Theon smiled back, a shark’s smile, took the keys, turned as if to go, and came back around swinging with a vicious right hook. He dropped the keys to the Rolls on the little prick’s bleeding face, gut roiling with nervous anger.  
  
He had a dozen cartons of Asha’s finest hooch in the back of the Rolls; he’d been planning on making his drops, and collecting his payoffs, before his date with Mya.  _Shit...I can’t move it now, right in front of the precinct._ Theon’s mind raced, but he couldn’t see a way out of it...he’d just have to brazen it out. Hopefully Robb just wanted the Rolls for a date with Roslin...then they’d be dealing exclusively with the back seat, and it wouldn’t be a problem. He’d just have to go back out and make his deliveries after he dropped Mya off...he hoped that would be late, but the blind pigs were open all hours, it wouldn’t make a lick of difference.   
  
After dumping the squad car at Riverrun and convincing Sansa and Bran to let him take their Uncle Edmure’s Cadillac, Theon was on his way again. He’d changed into his penguin suit, combed his hair back, and been talked into a bandage for his knuckles by Sansa. She’d raised her eyebrows at his put-together appearance, but hadn’t said a word. He loved her for that, and danced her for a loop around the kitchen, kissing her blushing cheek before he left.  
  
As he maneuvered the unfamiliar car through the city, his thoughts turned, again, to the night he’d asked Mya Stone on this date. She’d got him in the family jewels but good,  _again_ , damn her, but he’d only been able to focus on her deep blue eyes and the lean curves of her body. He’d been actively trailing her at every opportunity, fearful that Asha might’ve dropped a hint to one of his uncles about her, but he’d not seen any sign of that.  _So, why_ , he wondered to himself, pulling up in front of the dormitory, _did I carry on following her around for a week and a half_?  
  
Before he could get out of the car, he saw her exit the building, and he had his answer. She was radiant in a bluish-green, full-length dress, the neckline low, but not immodestly so. It made her eyes sparkle, and one dark curl kept flipping forward against her cheek in the most delicious way. Theon wanted nothing more than to get her out of the dress, but he had to admit she looked damn fine in it.  
  
He hopped out of the Caddy, coming around to open her door for her. “Mya, doll, you look like a million bucks. You’re going to be the most beautiful woman in the place.” As she slid past him into the car, murmuring thanks, he caught a whiff of her perfume and had to hold back a groan, _ Goddamn but she smells good..._  
  
Mya glanced at him uncertainly as he got back in. “You’re just using a line on me, aren’t you? I saw in the paper just yesterday that the mayor herself was spotted at the Blue Room earlier this week.”  
  
Theon put a hand on the seat behind her, biting his lip as he concentrated on backing up. “What? A line? No...” He successfully maneuvered the car back into the street and pulled away, letting his hand drift down to her shoulder to pull her a bit closer. “Cersei Lannister is like a poisonous snake...pretty to look at, but deadly up close. You, Mya Stone,” his voice grew husky against his will, “are a goddamn treasure.”  
  
Mya’s eyes,  _so damn blue_ , grew wide, and Theon could’ve kicked himself for getting so earnest. He grinned at her, pulling his pack of Luckies out and wedging one between his lips, trying to act casual now. She waved the pack off when he offered it to her, still staring at him wide-eyed, her lower lip caught between her teeth in a fashion that drove him quite mad.  
  
“A treasure, I tell you.” His tone was joking now, and he took the opportunity of a red light to light his ciggy. “It’s not every day you find a woman that’ll agree to go out with you after giving you not one, but TWO, shots to the pills.”  
  
Mya poked him playfully in the ribs, sliding closer as he let his arm rest on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to the first time, you know. It was the car door! And the second time, I thought you were someone else!”  
  
“Suuure, blame it on the car! Typical.” He winked at her as he eased the Caddy into a prime parking spot in front of the Blue Room, ignoring the small placard that said “Reserved” in front of the spot. “That car’s my baby, she’d never do me wrong.”  
  
Mya laughed, glancing at the placard as she slid out of the car behind him. “Is this spot reserved for  _us_? And where is your sweetheart tonight, Detective?”  
  
“It surely is, dove.” Theon lied easily, and without a thought. He hadn’t the foggiest who the spot was reserved for, and didn’t much care. She took his arm as they entered the club, a warm wave of music washing over them as the coat check girl took their outerwear. “Like I said before, only the best. Robb’s got the Rolls tonight, did he have a hot date with Roslin? He didn’t tell me...” Theon trailed off. Now that he thought about it for half a second, it seemed odd to him. Robb hadn’t said a thing about a date, nor about any other pressing business... _what in the blazes did he need the Rolls for?_  
  
“Nope, not tonight,” Mya was saying as the maitre’d led them to their table. “She was going home, for once. Someone’s birthday, evidently. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a sibling with a birthday every weekend, the number of siblings she has.”   
  
Theon waved off the maitre’d and pulled out Mya’s chair himself, netting a brilliant grin and a soft touch to the inside of his wrist before he sat opposite her. A waiter swung by the table with two glasses of champagne, and Theon had to restrain himself from gulping his down. He wondered if she’d been able to feel the way his pulse quickened at her touch, fervently hoping not. He was distracted, _ What’d she been saying? Something about Roslin Frey and her absolutely ridiculous amount of siblings. _  
  
He laughed shortly, “There are an awful lot of Frey’s, aren’t there? And I think I’ve locked up at least half of them at one time or another.”  
  
Mya paused with the champagne glass halfway to her lips, cocking her head at him curiously. “You what now?”  
  
“Collared her second cousin once removed just a few weeks ago. Jewelry heist.” He grinned at her. “You didn’t know?” His grin grew wider as she shook her head, finally sipping the champagne. “Oh yeah, the Freys are a bunch’a crooks and thugs. Small-time, but still...”  
  
Mya took another sip of champagne, closing her eyes to savor the taste. “Roslin never said...but I guess I wouldn’t either.” Her eyes flicked open to stare at him, an odd expression crossing her face. Theon couldn’t read it at all, and it made him highly uncomfortable. “This bubbly’s amazing,” she said, her smile becoming teasing. “I’m surprised they serve it so openly with one of Kingsport’s finest around.”  
  
“I’m just a small fish in these waters, doll. Besides, they know me and mine here.” Theon drained his glass and stood, thinking, _If only she knew...Asha supplies the damn stuff to them._ He held his hand out to her. “Dance with me, while they’re playing a slow song. Despite what my sister told you, I’m a fine dancer.”  
  
He pulled Mya to her feet, setting her champagne glass on the table as he spun her onto the floor. She clung to him, the now-familiar scent of her perfume enveloping them both, as he spun her around a passing waiter, and onto the dance floor.  
  
“Oh!” Mya laughed softly. “You’re passable, I guess.”  
  
“You’re not bad yourself, doll.” He pulled her closer, his hand perilously low on her back, as the band moved into a slow, sensual rendition of “Stardust”.  
  
Mya gave him a stern look, but didn’t mention his wandering hand. “Well, Roslin only makes me practice with her every other night, you know.” She grinned conspiratorially. “We even practice the Charleston when Mrs. Darry goes out to get her hair set.”  
  
Theon couldn’t help but grin back, even though the sway of her hips against his was causing him no small amount of distraction; the thought of her and peppy little Roslin Frey dancing together in their dorm room was, frankly, adorable.  _Adorable? Really? Good god, Greyjoy, get your head screwed on straight..._  
  
“The Charleston, eh? Well, you’ll have to convince Roslin to share Robb if you ever want to dance it in public, I’m afraid. There are enough people ready to make you look a fool in the world, without you doing it for them. Give me a nice, slow dance any day.” His sharp smile and the way the tips of his fingers were tucked under the low-cut back of her dress showed just what he meant by the word ‘nice’.  
  
“I must say I’m inclined to agree with you,” Mya tucked her head under his chin, pressing closer, and Theon struggled to maintain control. _ What  is  it about this girl, damn her?_ “About the slow dance part, anyway. Although Roslin swears Robb’s the best dancer going...maybe I should give him a try!”  
  
Theon chuckled, feeling her smile against his throat. “Who do you think taught him to dance, dove?” He brushed his lips against her dark curls, pleased to hear a faint sigh in return. As they spun, he thought he saw a familiar face, but the steps of the dance moved them away too quickly to be sure.  
  
He was trying to maneuver them back into position to get a better look when he felt Mya nudging his chin. “Are you telling me, Theon Greyjoy, that _ you_ taught Robb how to dance? Oh, I can just picture you two!” A low laugh burbled up out of her, and Theon smiled against the top of her head.  
  
“Go on, tease all you like...” He spun them past a bored-looking Renly Baratheon, dancing with Margaery Tyrell, and got a solid look at the table he’d spotted before. It was deep in the shadows, but he’d know his sister and his uncle anywhere. Asha was grinning at him like she knew some big secret...  
  
“Oh! Is that Asha over there?”  _Fuck..._ Theon guided them across the dance floor, but Mya was looking up at him with a bright smile now. “Shouldn’t we go say hi? That wasn’t Q-qarl,” she stumbled over the unfamiliar name, “with her. In fact, he kind of looked like you...”  
  
“My uncle, Victarion Greyjoy,” Theon said, cutting her off. The less she knew about his family, the better. Thankfully, the song was ending, and he steered her back towards their table, only to feel his heart sink to his feet. There was someone sitting at their table, two someone’s in fact, and as two blonde heads turned to look at them, Theon groaned internally.  
  
“Victar-oh! Theon...” Mya continued under her breath as the woman at the table fixed them both with a cool gaze, her green eyes looking decidedly cat-like. “That parking spot  _wasn’t_ reserved for us, was it?” Her voice grew strained. “You took the  _mayor’s_ spot, and table?”  
  
Before he could reply, the man at the table laughed, a low, rich sound. “Reserved for  _him_? Not hardly,” he said, his words belying his warm smile. “If you run, Greyjoy, maybe you can stop them from towing that jalopy of a Caddy.” He shrugged elegantly, and Theon wanted nothing more than to punch Jaime Lannister as he had his whining brown-noser cousin earlier that day.  
  
As it was, he swallowed his anger, keeping his tone light, “Never been towed yet...one of the  many  perks of being in law enforcement.” He heard Cersei Lannister snort as the maitre’d led them away, murmuring false apologies. Theon was fuming as he helped Mya into her light jacket, scowling when he realized she was trying to contain gales of mirthful laughter. 

  
“I didn’t  take her spot...well, yeah, I guess I did. But I didn’t know it was  her spot. And I most definitely didn’t take her table!” Theon was indignant, taking her hand as they left the club, a stiff breeze redolent with salt water making them both shiver slightly. He put an arm around her, scowling at the Lannister woman’s sparkling new Silver Phantom as they waited for the valet to bring the car around from wherever it’d been taken. “We had tickets, damnit! The fucking nerve...” He took a deep breath, fumbling in his jacket pocket and pulling out a crumpled pack of Luckies, but it was empty, and he tossed it at the offending car half-heartedly.  
  
Mya turned into him, standing on tip-toes and turning his head to her with one cool finger, smiling softly. “It’s fine, Theon.” She kissed him gently, her lips barely brushing his. “I heard their funnel cakes are nowhere near as good as the boardwalk’s, anyway.”


	9. Back on the Boardwalk

Mya looked over at Theon as he parked the Caddy, her lips quirking in a smile. “You’re not really one to date much, are you.”  
  
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
    “Well, we have this entire, huge city at our disposal and you gravitate towards the boardwalk like your life depends on it.”  
  
    “I’ll have you know I’ve been to all the hip joints in this city and this just happens to be my favorite.” Theon rested his arm along the back of the front seat, trailing his fingers over the back of her neck, causing her to shiver.   
  
    Sliding across the seat, Mya kissed his cheek. “I’ll just have to trust you then, won’t I?”  
  
    “If you know what’s good for you. Now, care for another dusty octopus?”  
  
    “Absolutely not! There’s only room in my heart for one octopus. Can’t have it getting jealous, you know.” Mya tickled Theon’s ribs lightly, smiling at the way he squirmed.  
  
    “Hey, knock that off, you!” He laughed, lacing his fingers through hers. “Come on then. If you won’t let me win you another oversized piece of carny junk at least let’s get some funnel cakes. I don’t know about you but the Blue Room’s watered down booze isn’t what I’d call a sufficient dinner.” He popped open the driver’s side door and slid out, still holding her hand and pulling her after.  
  
    “When you’re right, you’re right...” Mya rested a hand on her stomach, feeling it rumble. “And you did say we could try every funnel cake in the city if I wanted.”  
  
    “We may have to pace that out. I’m supposed to be quick on my feet, remember.” Theon drew her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, tossing down a few coins at the funnel cake stand. “What good is a copper if he’s all fat and slow?”  
  
    Mya took a bite of the warm dough, smiling blissfully. “Don’t you worry, Detective. I’ve got ways to keep you trim.”  
  
    He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”  
  
    “Mmhmm. Come to a few tennis lessons with me and you’ll be in the best shape of your life.” She smiled coyly. “Why, what’d you think I meant?”  
  
    He shook his head, grinning wordlessly and brushing a bit of powdered sugar off his tuxedo lapel. Mya had to admit, he cut a rather dashing figure and looked completely at ease in the formal wear. _ Admit it, you haven’t been able to stop staring since he picked you up._ As if hearing her thoughts he glanced down at her. “What’s got your cheeks so red, dove?”  
  
    “Hmm? Oh, just the wind. It’s a bit stiff.” Mya took another small bite of funnel cake.  _Give your mouth something to do before you shove your foot any further in it, Stone._  
  
    Theon coughed, choking a bit on his own bite and struggling not to laugh. “So it is, Mya...so it is.” His hand tightened on the curve of her waist and he nodded at a long, low wooden building. “Shall we? Something tells me it’s warmer in there.  
  
    “The Tunnel of Love?” Mya giggled. It may be cliche, but where was the harm? “Theon Greyjoy, ever the romantic.”

  
    Wrapping up the remnants of their funnel cakes, Mya stowed them in her clutch while Theon procured tickets and took her hand, guiding her into a rather decrepit-looking wooden swan. She laughed as it swayed perilously, stumbling against him.  
  
    “Easy there. These are treacherous seas.” He held an arm around her waist as they sat, and she glanced over the side of the swan, still laughing.  
  
    “You were born on Pyke, and you call 6 inches of green water treacherous?” She snuggled against his side, resting a hand on his knee.  
  
    He was silent a moment. “How’d you know where I was born?”  
  
_Oh no._ Mya straightened, trying to think fast. “I...um...we had an assignment to try out the archives in the school’s library and research a topic of of our choice and I...” She paused, toying with the embroidery on her dress. “I picked you.” Mya stared at her lap, her lower lip caught between her teeth.   
  
    “Why me?” His voice was quiet, the only other sound the gentle lapping of water against the side of their sad little dinghy.  
  
    Mya shrugged a shoulder, still staring at her hands in her lap. “There’s no one else I could think of other than you.” She hazarded a glance up at him, but it was hard to read his expression in the dim light of the tunnel. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”  
  
    She heard him snort. “Don’t be. I’m the one who should be apologizing for the pathetic nickelodeon story you probably found in the papers.” He tipped her chin up, brushing his warm fingers over her cheekbone. “Saves me the trouble of telling you about my sordid past at the very least.”  
  
    “It’s not sordid, it’s...” Mya cast about for words. “It’s just sad. The whole thing.”  
  
    “Don’t say it like that.” Theon growled. “I don’t want your pity, or anyone else’s.” His finger tightened on her chin, forcing her eyes up to his. “What happened happened, and it’s done with now.” They drifted under a low overhead light, and Mya was taken aback at how dark his eyes had gotten. She nodded stiffly.  
  
    “You’re right.” She pulled his hand away from her chin, settling it back on her waist and resting her head on his shoulder, unsure what else to say. They drifted in silence for some time before Theon spoke again.  
  
    “You really couldn’t think of anyone else besides me? To research, I mean?” There. The lightness she was used to had returned to his voice, to a point anyway. She lifted her head and offered a small smile.  
  
    “I couldn’t think of anyone else period, fella. Only you.”  
  
    There was a beat as he stared at her, and Theon kissed her hard then, pulling her against him with a crushing force. One hand tangled in her hair, the other drifting down her spine. His tongue flicked at her lips, and they parted easily for him. She wrapped a hand in the lapel of his jacket, pulling him closer as his taste, feel and scent flooded her senses. He shifted on the bench, lowering her onto her back and slipping his hand over her hip.  
  
    Mya couldn’t help but gasp as his lips slid off hers, trailing down her throat and settling between her breasts.  _You told yourself you wouldn’t do this, not yet, not with_ him _...oh God, what is he doing with his tongue?_ Theon pressed his hips into hers through the fabric of her dress, and she bit her lip at the sensations that spread through her like wildfire. His fingers scrabbled at the strap of her gown and his lips followed its trail down her arm before returning to her breast while his other hand slid down her thigh, fishing for the bottom of her skirt. Mya saw a small pinpoint of light ahead growing steadily larger. Panic welled in her stomach as his fingers reached the top of her stocking, continuing northward towards the juncture of her thighs. She knew if she didn’t put a stop to this now she’d be done for.  
  
    “Theon.” Mya whispered. He grunted, his lips still travelling across her chest. She swatted at his arm. “ _Theon_. We can’t- not like this. We’re almost finished.”  
  
    “Dove, I haven’t even gotten started yet.” He raised his head to hers, slanting his mouth against hers again and her troubles nearly dissipated like so much dandelion fluff, but she wrenched her mouth away.  
  
    “No, I mean with the ride.” She jerked her head at the end of tunnel, and he swore, sitting up and pulling her after.   
  
    “Of all the rotten timing...” Dashing a hand across his mouth, he looked over at Mya, pulling the strap of her dress over her shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me, Mya Stone. Parts of me, at the very least.”  
  
    Mya patted her hair as they reached the end of the ride, accepting his hand out of the boat and pointedly ignoring the ride operator’s licentious grin. She glanced at Theon and clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter. “Oh Theon, this color really isn’t you.” Licking her thumb, she scrubbed at the remnants of her lipstick, smeared across his face.  
  
    He grinned, looking nearly bashful. “Thanks doll. Say, you still have the rest of those funnel cakes?”  
  
    Mya fished around in her clutch, poking him in the ribs as she handed a tissue-wrapped bundle over. “Have at it.  
  
They continued down the boardwalk as the sun set and hundreds of tiny, twinkling lights lit up all along the stands and games. Mya wrapped her arm around Theon’s waist, resting her head on his shoulder as they headed down the pier. She could not for the life of her recall a time when she felt so at ease, if not still slightly breathless.   
  
    They reached the end of the pier, the piped calliope music and general chatter from the boardwalk largely replaced by the waves crashing against the pillars below. There were no people this far down, only a few peckish-looking seagulls eyeing Theon’s funnel cake jealously. Mya sighed, content. “In case I forget to tell you, I’m  having a wonderful time tonight.”  
  
    Theon snorted. “Sure you are, doll. Getting kicked out of one of the most exclusive clubs in the city is a fantastic time.”  
  
    “I am!” She looked up at him, noticing the way his brow was furrowed. “Theon, you could’ve taken me to chase a greased pig and it would’ve been fun. Although I probably would’ve worn a different outfit for that...”  
  
    “A greased pig, huh?” He chuckled once, glancing down at her. “I’d give a good dollar, five even, to see that.”  
  
    “A whole five dollars?” Mya laughed, tucking a stubbornly uncooperative lock of hair behind her ear. “Boy, you must like me more than I thought.”  
  
    Theon tightened his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against his chest, nearly missing his words, he went so quiet. “I must.”   
  


Mya lifted her head, remembering the shift in his tone when he first picked her up.  _A treasure, he called me._ She had the vague feeling something terribly important could come of tonight, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it and it scared her. She swallowed hard, trying to stop the sudden lurch of her stomach.

 

“Come here.”  She straightened the lapels of his tuxedo’s jacket, straightening out the tie a bit. “There...you got all rumpled somewhere along the way.” She glanced up to see him looking down with a strange, unreadable expression. “What?”

 

He shook his head, expression growing slightly distant. “I’ve seen Cat Stark do that for Ned a thousand times over the years.”

 

“How’s she doing, anyway? And Robb?”

 

Theon propped a foot on the lower rail of the pier’s railing, staring out over the water. “Not too well, truth be told. They don’t mention him ever. It’s like they’re trying to forget he existed and that this whole mess ever even happened. I’m not one for head shrinking but it can’t be healthy.”

 

Mya leaned on the pier railing, gazing out at the wind-tossed bay. “Have you made any headway with it? Finding anyone, I mean?”

 

Theon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Nothing. There’s a restaurant full of witnesses who all claim the same selective blindness. Ned and Robert Baratheon just opened fire on each other, for all we know.” Frustrated, he chucked the last bite of his funnel cake over the end of the pier. A seagull swooped down and caught it deftly before it hit the water. 

 

“Hey...” Mya put a hand on his arm. “You’ll find the guys, I know you will.” She bit her lip, remembering her conversation with her professor the day prior and the cold green gaze of Cersei Lannister. “I...”

 

Theon looked down at her, wind tugging at his hair. “What’s wrong, doll?”

 

Mya dragged her lower lip through her teeth. “One of my professors told me something yesterday that might help but I don’t know..it’s almost too horrid to mention.”

 

“What? Who? What’d he tell you?” Theon placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. “Mya, please, if you know something...”

  
    Mya cast about for the words to start, not finding any until she met his steady gaze. Haltingly, she told him what her professor had said, careful to leave out his name. “...he didn’t come right out and  say the Lannisters were behind it but-”  
  
    “It’s just as good.” Theon  looked electrified now, his grip on her shoulders tightening. “I  _knew_ it. I fuckin’ knew it, Mya! That lot’d just as soon throw you to the vipers as soon as look at you if you have something they want. This is fantastic. We’ve got to get this professor in, get a statement. This is fucking perfect!” He pulled her close, lifting her clear off her feet and kissing her deep enough to warm her toes. “ What’s his name, dove?”  
  
    Mya disentangled herself from his arms a little reluctantly, trying to smile reassuringly and positive it came across as a grimace. “Tyrion Lannister.”  
  
    The smile fell off of Theon’s face as quickly as if she’d ripped it off herself. “The Imp?  _He’s_ the guy that told you this?”   
  
    “Don’t call him that!” Mya detested the nickname given to Lannister by the papers.   
  
    Theon scrubbed a hand across his face, looking suddenly weary again. “Sorry, dove, that’s just the last name I expected to pop out of your mouth. Why in the hell would he tell you his father was behind it?”  
  
    Mya shrugged, shivering as a particularly strong gust of wind came in off the bay. “Haven’t the foggiest. Maybe he doesn’t approve.”  
  
    “Oh that’s grand. He doesn’t approve of murder so instead of uncovering it himself he sends some defenseless little co-ed to do it for him. Real big cheese, that one.”  
  
    “Excuse me?” Mya took a step back, feeling a flame of anger ignite in her stomach. “I’m not some ‘defenseless little co-ed’. You should know that more than anyone.”  
  
    “I’m sorry.” Theon said quickly, pulling her close to him again. “I didn’t mean it like that. The thing is...if the Lannisters are involved this complicates things, and I don’t like even the remote possibility that your name could get pulled into all this. They’re dangerous people and I’m not about to let them get to you.”  
  
    Mya rested her head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. “I know, Theon. I know they are. That’s why I told you this instead of doing anything about it on my own.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, taking what comfort she could from his solid presence there before her. After a moment she felt his arms go around her in return, his chin resting in her hair. “They won’t get to me. I’m such a small potato I haven’t even been planted yet.”  
  
    Theon chuckled, pulling back far enough to tip her chin up and kiss her softly. “They won’t get to you, no.” He agreed. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”  
  
    “That line coming out of any other fella would sound like a bunch of hooey.” Mya smiled up at him. “But from you, I believe it.”  
  
    “Hooey.” Theon scoffed. “I’m full of a lot of things, doll, but hooey is not one of them.”  
  
    Mya tucked her head back under his jaw and they stayed like that for a bit, the twilight deepening around them. “What are you going to do?” she asked finally.  
  
    He shrugged. “I’ll go to Robb about it, of course. And Selmy...he was one of Ned’s closest advisers on the force. If what The I-...if what Tyrion says has any merit we’ll be able to go after the Mayor and her father, but we have to make sure. If we go off half-cocked it would be a disaster.” Mya shivered again, slipping her arms inside Theon’s overcoat and not knowing what to say. Theon sighed. “C’mon then, doll. I shouldn’t keep you out in this cold. Your dorm mother will have my hide if you get sick because of me.”  
  
    Theon took her hand again and they made their way back to the Cadillac. The drive back through the city was largely quiet. His arm lay over her shoulders, idly twisting a lock of hair through his fingers. He parked the car as he usually did, flicking off the headlights and glancing over at Mya, lighting a cigarette. She watched him a bit warily, unsure if he was going to try and maul her as he had at the boardwalk and equally unsure if she would even try to stop him.  
  
    Something had changed in his demeanor, and Mya bit her lip. “Theon, is everything alright?”  
  
    Theon gave her a quick grin, chucking her under the chin. “I just had a fantastic night with the prettiest girl in Tri-State area and I’m looking forward to having many more. Everything, dove, is the bee’s knees.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “Now get a wiggle on. It’s not that I don’t love having you all to myself but I can feel your dorm mother’s eyes in in the back of my head.”  
  
    Sure enough, when Mya glanced out the driver’s side window she could see Mrs. Darry, her steel-grey hair done up in pin curls for the night, glaring at them out the mullioned glass of the dorm’s rear entrance. She giggled. “She has been a little more testy as of late.”   
  
    As they approached, Mrs. Darry shot Mya a warning look and returned to her parlor where, Mya had no doubt, she was deep the same penny romance novels she so often chastised her girls for reading. Theon pulled Mya to a stop just out of the orange-yellow glow of the building’s light and tipped her chin up, kissing her softly. She leaned into him, looping her arms loosely around his neck, standing on her tiptoes as he cupped her face with one hand. His other tightened at the small of her back, and he made a small, impatient noise in his throat as she nipped at his lips again.  
  
    Mya pulled away, smiling a little coyly as he brushed his fingers through her hair. “Thank you again, Detective, for a lovely evening.”  
  
    “The pleasure’s all mine, Miss Stone.” He grinned for a moment. “When do you want to see me again?”  
  
_Now,_ Mya was suddenly tempted to respond, despite his cheek.  _Now, and tomorrow, and the day after,_ but she kept her head, letting her smile grow just a hair. “Let’s see, shall we?” Kissing his cheek, she turned and headed into her dormitory, fighting the urge to glance over her shoulder the entire time.


	10. The List

“Get off that goddamn phone, you useless sack of dogshit!” Theon Greyjoy was about to hit his absolute limit, and if puny little Lancel Lannister didn’t look sharp, he’d take another right hook to the face.  
  
Robb frowned, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s probably just calling in dinner, Greyjoy. Relax.”  
  
Theon shrugged the friendly gesture off, beyond annoyed. They’d gotten no further than they had been on the double murders of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon, and if the Lannister idiot was going to hang around, as he’d insisted, he could do a little more work. Theon and Robb, as well as all the other detectives on the force, had been working double shifts since the horrifying hits had taken place. Lancel, a mere patrolman, had volunteered to help them sort papers, move boxes, that type of thing. It irked Theon far more than he could easily explain.  
  
“Don’t tell me to relax, Stark.” He pulled the younger man aside, speaking low and fast. “Don’t you remember what Mya told me?  Who was supposedly involved in this whole thing? So don’t you dare fucking tell me to relax.”  
  
“Theon...” Robb cupped a hand around the back of Theon’s neck, an oddly intimate gesture, and bumped foreheads with him gently. “I know what my father meant to you, and I know you want to catch his killers just as much as I do,” Theon looked away; Robb had  _no_ idea what Ned Stark did or didn’t mean to him. “But you look like absolute shit. When’s the last time you slept?”  
  
“Slept? Can’t recall.” Theon sighed wearily, shoving his friend away. “You know I’ve never been much for sleeping, anyway.” Nightmares, and poor sleeping in general, had plagued Theon since he was a small boy. Although lately, he’d barely even had a chance to lay head to pillow, he’d been so busy.   
  
They’d been pulling doubles at the station, and on top of that, Theon had been running a ludicrously large amount of ‘shine for his sister and uncles,  and had somehow managed to find the time to take Mya out on three more dates.  Mya...for Chrissake, I  still haven’t asked her to the Policeman’s Ball! Theon shook his head, he’d have to just ring her up.  
  
“...Bran says he sees your light on all hours of the night...when you’re even home, that is.” Robb was being boring again, although Theon tolerated  his boringness far more easily than any others.  
  
“What the hell is Bran doing up all hours of the night, anyway?” Theon kept his tone light. “It can’t be helped, you know we all have a lot to do.”  _Some of us more than others_ ...  
  
Robb shrugged, throwing an arm around him and pulling him back to his desk. “Who knows, with Bran. Probably up looking at the stars or something. You know how he is.” Theon slumped in his chair, looking up as Robb leaned against his desk, pushing a messy stack of papers aside. “Speaking of things to do, have you sold all your tickets to the ball yet? I’m having a hell of a time getting rid of all mine...”  
  
Theon laughed. “Ages ago. How many do you have left?”  
  
“Fifteen, I think. No, fourteen.” Robb had that puzzled expression on his face that always made Theon think of the little boy he’d first met over ten years ago. “How’d you sell yours so quick?”  
  
Theon cracked his knuckles, grinning. “I’m just that good, I guess. You should try selling them to Roslin’s family...Lord knows there’s enough of them.” He saw no need to tell Robb he’d sold most of his tickets to Asha, who’d distribute them among the more prominent members of their family. Everyone would assume they’d crashed the party, anyway. “Now d’you mind moving your ass off my work here?”  
  
Robb got up and moved to his own desk. “I suppose I could sell them to some of Roslin’s Rosby family...they’re not like the rest of them.” Theon suppressed a snort as Robb continued talking, mainly to himself. “I don’t know, she gets so uptight around her family...”  
  
Theon stared a moment at the stacks of papers covering his desk in precarious piles, passing a hand over his face wearily. Everything on his desk had been sorted before it got to him, by the Lannister kid or one of the other hourly chumps, each pile of documents from a file or box from Ned Stark’s office. They’d been trying to get to Robert Baratheon’s files as well, hoping to find something, anything, but they’d been getting jammed up by City Hall.  
  
So far, there hadn’t been much interesting to be found, but the detectives of Kingsport were nothing if not persistent. Theon rifled through a small stack, the note pinned to the top reading “Phone Messages”. Most of the names and numbers were familiar to him; he saw Catelyn’s name a number of times, and realized, with a small pang of some undefinable emotion, that one number, repeated over and over, was little Rickon’s school. The boy was wild as a wolf, and evidently Ned had had to be called in a number of times. He’d only gotten worse since his father’s untimely death.  
  
There were two names that Theon didn’t recognize, and one number with no name, so he set them next to his desk phone to call later. Looking at the phone, he remembered, _ I still need to call up Mya and ask her to the ball . _ He picked up the phone and dialed from memory, 28ROS, easy to recall, ROS for Rosby Hall and for Roslin, then wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder as he picked up another pile of loose papers, this one titled “Personal Files”.  
Theon frowned at the label as the phone rang, barely hearing the breathless “Hello? Hellooo?” of whatever dormmate of Mya’s had ran for the phone.  
  
“Run get Mya for me, will ya? There’s a good girl.” The girl said something, but he wasn’t listening.  Who the fuck authorized anyone to go through Ned’s  personal files? I thought all that was supposed to be in the safe at Winterfell, anyway?  
  
He shook his head as he heard Mya’s voice, muffled, as if she were holding her hand over the phone. “Alright, alright, I’ll tell him...but you know how he is.”  
  
Theon began flicking idly through the stack of personal papers as Mya came on the line. “Theon, is that you?”  
  
“You got another fella calling you up, Miss Stone?” He glanced at an old evaluation and set it aside. It was from 1912, for crying out loud, didn’t the man ever throw anything away?  
  
Mya’s bright laugh lifted his spirits slightly. “No, sir! Oh, and Eloise Hedgen told me to tell you you’ve got some nerve on you, and that you’re very rude.”  
  
Theon snorted, “I could have Eloise Hedgen eating out of the palm of my hand, if I cared enough to try. You tell her...” He paused, narrowing his eyes at a receipt in the pile he was going through, but it was only an old receipt for the nuthouse Catelyn Tully’s brother had been in after the war. “Tell her I don’t give a rat’s ass what she thinks of me, and that she’s got a lumpy rear end.”  
  
He could hear Mya bite back a giggle as she put her hand back over the phone and told her friend that he was very sorry, he’d just been distracted by work, and of course he’d  meant to say please and thanks. Eloise Hedgen replied with something that made Theon raise his eyebrows and Mya gasp, then burst out laughing as she came back on the line.  
  
“She really _ doesn’t _ like me, does she?”  
  
Mya’s laughter was dying down, small giggles breaking out every now and then. “No, I guess not. But she’s a stick in the mud anyway.  _I_ like you, and Roslin likes you-”  
  
“Now there you go telling a lie again...you’re not very good at it, you know.” Theon smiled absently as he flipped through a few letters from various Kingsport folks, correspondence that had somehow never gotten tossed or filed. It was all dull as dirt, from what Theon could tell. “Roslin doesn’t like me one bit. Not that I care.” Robb frowned at him from across the expanse of their two desks, but Theon ignored him, listening to Mya and reading.  
  
“Oh, Theon, she does, truly! Deep down inside, she likes you one tiny little bit.”  
  
“I can hardly contain my joy,” he replied dryly, shifting the phone on his shoulder to reach a handwritten list that had been face-down at the bottom of the pile. “Listen, doll, I meant to ask you this earlier, but you know how things are right now... Anyway, there’s this Policeman’s Ball coming up, next Saturday, to be exact, and I’ve got two tickets. How’d you like to go with me?”  
  
“How’d I like to go? What do you think?” Mya sounded a bit put out, to Theon’s mind. “Roslin’s only been talking about it for months.”  _Yep, definitely put out. Damn..._   
  
“Mya, dove, I meant to ask you last week, but I just plain forgot. Last night I forgot to take my shoes off before I got in bed. I’m overworked, and tired as a dog. Don’t be sore.” The shoe story was a lie, but it sounded good. Theon glanced at the list, meaning to set it aside with the rest of the junk, but one entry caught his eye.  
  
_Mya Stone, Eyrie, 1905_ ...  “I’m sorry, it’s just that Roslin had been gloating about it ever since you took me to the Blue Room...” Mya’s voice had softened. “So what do I wear to this to-do? I assume it’s black tie?”  
  
“Wear? Like clothes?” Theon was distracted, trying to puzzle out why Mya’s name would be on a list in Ned Stark’s personal papers. Her name was at the top of the list, followed by a name two down that sounded very familiar to him, though he couldn’t place it. There were 16 names in all on the list, most of them listed with  _Kingsport_ or  _Storms’ End_ after them, and dates ranging from Mya’s 1905, which Theon realized had to be the year she’d been born, to 1923, just last year.  
  
“You know, cloth stitched together in pleasing shapes to cover your body...” Mya’s voice was teasing, distracting him from the list.  
  
“Doll, please...ask Roslin about it, will ya? I’ve gotta get off the line here, something just came up.”  
  
“I-oh...okay...I’ll just speak with you later, I guess.” Theon could tell she was trying to keep the tone light, but a teensy bit of hurt had snuck in.  
  
“Go on and tell Ros she can quit being so snooty, because you’re most definitely invited. I’ll ring you tonight with more details. And you know what, why don’t you go on down to Bloomie’s and pick yourself out something to wear? Just tell them to send me the bill, dove, alright?” He quickly hung up the phone before she could protest, and turned his full concentration to the list before him.  
  
Theon glanced at Robb, who was conferring with over another document with Barristan Selmy, before turning back to his list thoughtfully _.  Edric Storm...now where have I heard that name? _ He glared at Lancel Lannister, who was on the telephone  again , and stood, tucking the list into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.   
  
“Robb, I have to go. If I stay another moment, I’m likely to kill this damn fool,” he said, gesturing at the younger Lannister man.  
  
“Get outta here, Greyjoy. Go home and sleep.” Robb’s grin showed just how likely he thought that was.  
  
Theon grinned back, although his mind was still disturbed by the list in his pocket. “Oh yeah, sure. After I make a quick bust.” They both knew where he was going, but it wouldn’t do to spread it around the precinct. “And I’m taking the Rolls. You take a damn squad car this time.”  
  
Robb just tossed him his overcoat, laughing. As he left, Theon glared at the Lannister runt again and grabbed a pack of Luckies off the desk of some sad sack who’d left them lying around. _ His loss, my gain . _ The Rolls was gassed up and freshly detailed, and Theon smiled affectionately as he slid into the driver’s seat, flicking the ignition and smoothly pulling out of the lot. Traffic was light in the city, and he wove around slower cars as he made his way to Asha’s joint, laying on the horn as he zipped past Jeyne Poole, one of Sansa’s little friends, leaving an ice cream parlor.  
  
He whipped into the alley behind the club just as the sun was setting, smiling sharply at a man coming out who took one look at Theon in his suit and long overcoat and went running. Most of Asha’s patrons knew by now that he wasn’t busting anyone, but every once in a while, he’d come across some rube who didn’t know the score, and it was always good for a laugh.   
  
The band was just tuning up when he slipped behind the bar, putting a warm hand on Asha’s back and reaching up to grab a bottle she was stretching for. She smiled and kissed his cheek as she took the bottle from him, pouring out a glass for him before turning back to the few people at the bar.  
  
Theon lounged against the backstop of the bar, sipping the brown plaid and searching the sparse crowd for Roz. When he didn’t spot her at once, he leaned forward and flicked one of Asha’s curls. “Say, sis-”  
  
Asha turned, quick as an eel, smirking. “She’s with someone at the moment. You can wait out here, or in my office, but don’t touch the hair.”   
  
“How’d you...” Theon just shook his head, holding out his glass for a refill. “Forget about it. Tell her I’m in the back when she’s done.”  
  
She poured him another jigger of whiskey. “What’sa matter, your little college girl ain’t puttin’ out?” His sister’s tone was teasing, but he sensed she was digging here.  
  
“Not yet,” he replied, grinning as he tipped the bottle up in her hand, filling his glass. “But after the Policeman’s Ball, you can bet your bottom dollar she will. Speaking of puttin’ out...where’s Qarl?”  
  
Asha laughed. “Helping Uncle Vic with something. I woulda sent you instead, if you’d’ve got here a few minutes sooner.”  
  
“Helping Uncle Vic...?” Theon trailed off, raising an eyebrow at his sister. He hadn’t forgotten the way she’d acted with their uncle the other night. “Well,  that must be awkward.”  
  
“Go on, get.” Asha was scowling now. “Nobody asked your opinion.”  
  
He left her pouring shots for the bar, and planted himself on the cushy leather sofa in her office. He was anxious for Roz to get there, but left alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but thinking of Mya. He pulled the list out of his pocket, smoothing it on his knee before stretching out on the sofa.  
  
_Mya, then this Gendry, then Edric Storm...where in the hell have I heard that name? Edric Storm, Edric Storm._ ..  Theon’s line of thought was interrupted when Roz slipped in, a few bars of rollicking jazz following her through the door. Tall and statuesque, she didn’t have the lithe figure to pull off the flapper look, so she vamped it up in clingy gowns, her fiery hair long and loose. She arched an eyebrow at him, jerking head back towards the door.  
  
“Let’s go upstairs, why don’t we, baby?”  
  
Theon sneered. “What, so I can fuck you on the same sheets some palooka just sweated all over? The couch’ll do just fine, doll.” He stood, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it over a chair, then looked at Roz meaningfully. “Whaddya waitin’ for?”  
  
Roz just laughed as she crossed the room and knelt before him, undoing his pants with a practiced hand. “You’re a real nice fella, Greyjoy, real nice,” she said as she worked them down over his hips, looking up at him with a thoroughly wicked smile.  
  
“That’s what they all say,” he said, running a hand through her hair and drawing her closer. Roz made a small sound, maybe clearing her throat, maybe scoffing, but she slipped one cool finger under the waistband of his boxers, inching them down at a maddeningly slow rate. Normally, Theon wouldn’t mind a little tease, but today wasn’t a normal day.  
  
He moved her hand, pulling his boxers down himself impatiently, but he’d no more than got his cock out when she returned the favor, moving his hands to lick him from root to tip. “Jesus, fuck!” Theon swore, grabbing the arm of the closest chair as Roz took him fully into her mouth, digging into the small of his back with her nails.  
  
The sensations were overwhelming, Roz’s lips and tongue _ and fucking hell is she  _ biting ? , and it was all he could do to hang on to the chair with one hand, his other tangled in her hair, holding her in place as he thrust into her mouth. After a time, he realised this would be a short night if he didn’t do something soon. Roz looked up at him through her lashes, drawing away almost completely before Theon pulled her head back to him, and he was suddenly, unaccountably, reminded of Mya.   
  
The low moan that was ripped from his throat at that unbidden thought made Roz smile, and she pulled away again, letting her tongue drag along the length of him until her mouth was empty. “Having fun, are we?” Theon debated letting her continue her ministrations, but she slipped one strap of her dress down, and he had the sudden urge to rip the damn thing off her.  
  
“Get up,” he said curtly. “And take that dress off or I’ll take it off for you.”  
  
Roz laughed and pushed the other strap down, wiggling until the dress was pooled around her hips. “Go on then, big man,” she said, taking his hands and guiding them to the hidden zipper in the back of the dress. “Do your worst.”  
  
Theon turned her in one swift movement, tearing the dress down the back seam, pushing the remnants down and bending her over the chair with a firm hand on her back. Roz let out a small ‘oof’, but otherwise made no sound of protest. When he drew his other hand up the length of her thigh and to her core, she whined softly, pressing back against him, wet and needy, and he was lost. He fumbled with a rubber, stroking himself once roughly before shoving into her, earning a sharp cry.  
  
Normally, Theon would take  _some_ care to ensure that his partner was enjoying herself, but tonight he couldn’t bring himself to care. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he took his pleasure, and he could see that she’d likely have bruises later, but the realization meant nothing. Roz was crying out, but whether in pain or pleasure, he really couldn’t have said. The way she was writhing could have been wanton, or desperate to escape, but his grip was strong and his need stronger.  
  
“Please, Theon, fuck, please!” Roz was pleading, and it excited him. Her hips were meeting his thrusts now, and she was making breathy little noises, trying to speak again, but unable. It was all too much, too fast, and Theon buried himself in her a final time, drawing a hand down her bare back to steady himself. Roz continued to rock back against him, crying out softly as his cock throbbed within her.  
  
After a moment, he drew away, turning to clean himself up. “Go on, beat it,” he said, pulling his pants up from around his ankles and digging in his pocket for some cash. He pulled a fiver out, considered, then took out another one. Meanwhile, Roz had gotten her dress to cover her front, but the back was gaping from shoulder blades to the cleft of her ass. She was twisting around, trying to look at the damage, when he waved the bills in her face.  
  
“You owe me for a dress, too, you lout,” she said, snatching the cash.   
  
“Please,” Theon snorted. “You got that dress for a dollar...go buy ten of ‘em.” He looked pointedly at the door, and she took the hint, stalking out as best she could while holding her dress together in the back.  
  
  
When she’d shut the door, Theon collapsed on the sofa, drained of all energy and lacking the will to even button his pants. After a moment, however, he did so; the image of his sister coming in to see him sitting with his cock out on her leather sofa was too horrifying to contemplate. He shifted slightly as a small crinkle told him he’d sat on his mystery list, pulling it out from under him and smoothing the paper carefully.   
  
He stared at Mya’s name blankly for a moment, feeling an odd pang of...something. Guilt? Theon wrinkled his nose, going back to the other names on the list. He and Mya had never said they were exclusive...  _ And anyway, a man has needs, she oughta know that . _ The third name kept drawing his attention, and he tapped a finger against his lips, thinking. _ Edric, Edric, Eddard, Ned, Ed, Eddy _ ... Eddy!  
  
Theon stretched over, grabbing the telephone from Asha’s desk, thankful it was in the modern style, with a dial. No need to involve one of Kingsport’s nosy operators, especially since he was calling from the club. He dialed 443RVR, and when Bran answered, Theon suddenly remembered how late it was.  
  
“Theon?” Bran spoke before Theon even had a chance to.  _Fuckin’ A, the kid is creepy!_   
  
“How’d you know it was me, kiddo?”  
  
“I don’t know, I just did.”   
  
“Ah...alright. Hey, listen, I gotta question for ya. Isn’t there a kid at your school by the name of Edric? Goes by Eddie or somethin’, doesn’t he?”  
  
The line was silent for a moment, Bran’s calm and measured breathing the only sound. Theon wondered what the hell he was thinking, but you just never could tell with Bran.  
  
“Yes, there is. He’s in between me and Arya.” Bran paused, taking a deep breath. “You remember who is father is, don’t you?”  
  
And suddenly everything seemed to click into place, like gears meshing together perfectly. “I sure do, pal. Not another word.” Theon’s fingers were drumming on the desk, and he could feel his heart racing. This was potentially huge...  
  
“Theon?” Bran’s voice was still calm, but Theon could detect an sharper edge to it than had been there previously. “You should come home now.”  
  
“What? No, yeah, I’ll be there soon. Listen, don’t tell your brother I was ringing up so late, he’ll-”  
  
Bran interrupted. “Now, Theon. Leave right now. Please.” The way he said ‘please’, almost desperately, made the hair on the back of Theon’s neck stand up.  
“I’m leaving now,” Theon said, reaching for his suit jacket. “Is everything okay, did you hear something in the house, what?”  
  
“Not here,” came the reply, followed by the muffled slam of a door. “Robb’s home, I better get off the line. _ Hurry _ , Theon, or they’ll make you do something bad again.”   
  
Before Theon could even draw a breath, Bran had disconnected the call. He shrugged into his jacket and tucked the list away in an inner pocket, thoughts racing with his revelation and the mystery of Bran’s words. He raked a hand through his hair, checked his fly, and stepped out of Asha’s office, and into a scene of chaos.  
  
He blinked at the tableau before him: Asha had a sawed-off shotgun leveled in a man’s face, pinning him to the wall behind the bar, while most of the crowd had either fled or was well back on the dance floor, chattering nervously. Theon spotted his uncle Vic slumped at the bar, cradling a hand to his chest and covered in blood.  
  
“Goddamnit, Theon, get over here!” His sister yelled over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off the man, who was loosening his tie nervously. Theon crossed the room and vaulted over the bar, drawing a groan from his uncle. “Take the gun, brother,” Asha said, handing him the .12 gauge shotgun.  
  
He took it from her and brought it to his shoulder, aiming for the center of the man’s chest as he’d been taught to do in his police training. “You keep your hands high,” he said to the man as Asha went around the bar and helped Vic to his feet. “What happened? Where’s Qarl?”  
  
She was half-dragging their uncle, who had an arm slung around her shoulders, and Theon saw a trickle of blood snake its way down Asha’s collarbone and along the swell of her breast, so bright against her pale skin. Vic’s hand was the source, he realized, his stomach turning at the sight of mangled flesh and exposed bone.  
  
Asha was breathless from the effort of dragging Vic towards the exit, but in control, all the same. “Qarl’s gone to Pyke. The job went sour. I’ve gotta get Uncle Vic to a doctor-” Vic groaned something about no hospitals, and her eyes shone for a minute, but her voice remained steady. “Theon, that man,” her tone turned cold and sharp, “has got to go.”  
  
“Asha...” He jerked the barrel of the gun at the man, who by now had beads of sweat rolling down his ashen face, and they followed his sister and uncle out of the club. “What exactly are you saying?” He thought he could guess, but he wanted to be sure.  
  
She turned to him after she’d loaded Vic into the passenger side of her smart little breezer, the top up for the night. “I’m saying he needs to die. Now. He saw too much, for one. And he did that,” gesturing towards their uncle bleeding all over her front seat, “for another. Now can you handle this, or no?”

  
The chill in her voice and the way her eyes seemed to bore into his made Theon’s stomach churn, and he swallowed hard before answering. “Asha, I can handle it, but...” he tried to keep his tone level, but he couldn’t help the slight whine that crept into his voice, a pathetic remnant of their time together as children. “I  _told_ you after the last time, I’m a copper, I can’t just go around bumping people off...”   
  
Too late, he realized his error, and Asha grinned at him triumphantly as she started her car up with a roar.  _You’ve got to now, you fucking dummy. He knows you’re on the force...you’ve got to shut him up_ . He heard Asha burn rubber as she pulled out of the alley, and he licked his lips nervously, wishing he had a ciggy.  
  
“On your knees.” Theon was numb, cold and numb, as he watched the man kneel in a small puddle, the knees of his tweed trousers going dark. “Not that I care, but is there anything you wanna say?”  
  
The man shook his head wordlessly, and suddenly there was an acrid smell and the front of the man’s trousers were as dark as the knees.  _ He pissed himself , _ Theon thought, unable to maintain his detachment, as he pumped a shell into the chamber and brought the barrel to rest at the base of the man’s neck.   
  
He pulled the trigger before he could lose his nerve, flinching at the blowback, the blast deafening in the close confines of the alley. The man slumped forward, half his head torn open and steaming in the cool night air. Theon raised a hand to his face, wiping away hot blood and bits of what he knew were brains. One of Asha’s men poked his head out the door, eyes widening slightly as he took in the gory mess at Theon’s feet.  
  
“Tell my sister it’s been taken care of, damn her hide.” Theon nudged the body aside with a foot and tossed the .12 gauge to the man in the doorway. “And that I’ll see her at the Policeman’s Ball.” 


	11. The Art of Diplomacy

“Miss, if you don’t have an appointment, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you. Now, if you’d like to make an appointment, please have a seat and fill out this request in triplicate and I’ll make sure it gets to the Mayor’s people.”  
  
Save for a few choice moments of her childhood, Mya had never been a violent person (until lately, she allowed), but at the moment she wanted nothing more than to wring the wattled neck of the old biddy staring blandly at her from behind the welcome desk at City Hall. She’d come there with the words of her professor echoing in her ears, and after having no luck at either her university’s library, or the city’s. Apparently getting copies of mayoral edicts was not a high priority, so after several long days of searching, she’d hoofed it on down to City Hall, tripping lightly up the white granite steps. _Remember: you’re hard-boiled. You’ve been doing this for years for all they know. You’ve got a steel rod in place of a spine and ice in your veins, Stone. You can do this._  
  


She took a breath. “I’m not looking to speak to the Mayor, ma’am. All I need to see is something the last Mayor passed just before he died-”

  


The old bat sighed and idly picked at a single long, black chin hair, still staring at Mya over the rims of her chipped bifocals. “Triplicate. Have a seat.” She jabbed towards a clump of stiff, pew-like benches. “There.”

  


“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I really haven’t got the time to wait for paperwork to be shuffled. I’ve got a deadline to meet and I’ve got a lot of heat coming down from-”

  


“Triplicate. Sit.”

  


_Maybe a different approach._.. “Listen, ma’am, this paper I’m working for...you’d love it. It focuses on...um, women! And a modern women’s issues, like working outside the home.” She leaned forward earnestly. “You’d be helping me more than you know. And you’d be helping in the fight for women’s equality! Just think, equal pay for man  and woman. You’d be helping where it really matters.” The receptionist’s surprisingly sharp eyes flicked down to Mya’s chest pointedly. When she leaned forward, her blouse had tugged down, uncovering a livid red suck mark left over from her last date with Theon on the swell of her breast. Mya pursed her lips and straightened, clearing her throat. “So what do you say? Will you help me help women?”

  


The receptionist set down her pen and levelled Mya with a stony cold gaze, slipping off her bifocals. “I’m only working outside my home because my husband left me for some floozy wannabe reporter who claimed she worked for a women’s liberation rag and if I don’t sit here ten hours a day and funnel the loonies out, I’ll lose the leaky roof over my head. Frankly, Miss whatever-your-name-is, I’m not so much concerned with equal pay as I am with any pay.” She slid them back on, folding her hands on her desk and looking up at Mya expectantly.

  


_Right_. Well. Mya felt the ice she’d tried to force into her veins melt and vanish in a puff of steam. She picked up the thin stack of pages, knocking the edges into true on the counter. “Triplicate.”

  


Mya turned to shuffle over to the bench and noticed a tall, handsomely-dressed man leaning against one of the marble columns lining the hall. She felt her stomach plummet - it was a face she recognized from newspapers, a few news reels, the occasional magazine cover, and a table at the Blue Room the previous Saturday. _Of all the luck, Jaime Lannister. The Mayor’s mouthpiece._ She wondered how much he had seen, but didn’t have to wonder long.

  


Jaime straightened and walked with a casual elegance towards the desk, hands in his pockets. “Problem, Gwyn?” His jade eyes flicked to Mya, and he did a double-take. “You were at the Blue Room on Saturday, weren’t you. With that hot-head cadet...what’s his name...”

  


“Theon Greyjoy.” Mya’s voice stuck, but only for a second. “And he’s no cadet. He’s a detective.”

  


“Ah, of course.” The smile Jaime gave her didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Forgive me, Miss...?”

  


“Stone. Mya Stone.” Jaime Lannister was perpetually on the top of Kingsport’s most eligible bachelor list, and Mya could see why. Tall, blond, old enough to know better and young enough not to care. When she gave her name he blinked, but his smile never wavered. _He’d last ten minutes in my dormitory. Eloise Hedgen would make mincemeat out of him._ “You’re Jaime Lannister,” she added, and immediately felt like a fool. “But you know that...” _Good God, would you shut up?_

  


Jaime arched an eyebrow, leaning on Gwyn’s desk. “Someone’s been reading her _Kingsport Daily_. Now, Miss Stone, care to tell me why you taking up my darling Gwyn’s time?”

  


Something about the way Jaime spoke made Mya feel like she was six years old again and getting scolded by her mother for knocking a cake she’d made for work off the counter, shattering an antique plate in the process. “There’s a piece of legislature I’m hoping to take a look at for...for an article I’m writing.” With the receptionist still glaring bullets into Mya’s head she couldn’t very well drop her legitimate journalist front.

  


Jaime nodded, brushing an errant strand of blond hair out of his eyes. “May I see your press pass, Miss Stone?”

  


“My...?” Mya’s throat closed. She didn’t even have a library card with her, much less anything she could pass off as a press pass. “I’m afraid I don’t, Mr. Lannister. I must’ve left it at home.”

  


“No worries. What’s the name of your paper? I’m sure we have you on record, although I can’t quite recall having seen you at any press conferences before.”

  


“The n-name. Of my paper.” Mya’s mind raced to a dead end. “It doesn’t have a name, per se. Just yet. It’s just getting started.”

  


“Oh, a fledgling then.” Lannister sounded impressed, nodding. “It takes a brave person to start not only a new business, but a new paper in times like these.” He straightened, flashing a smile at Gwyn. “Tell you what, Miss Stone. Why don’t you come with me, and we can discuss getting your paper set up with all the connections it needs.”

  


Mya’s stomach plummeted so quickly she fought the urge to glance down and see if it had landed on the floor. _What choice do you have? Just try and lie your way out of this. The quicker the better._ She squared her shoulders and followed Jaime down one hall after another, finally arriving at a small but well-appointed office overlooking the heart of the city.

  


“Coffee?” Jaime was already pouring himself a cup, but Mya shook her head.

  


“Can’t stand the stuff.”

  


“Very well then.” He nodded at a lush chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Miss Stone, and tell me about you.”

  


Mya was flummoxed, sitting gingerly. “I...well, what would you like to know?”

  


Jaime rounded his desk and took a seat behind it, leaning back and propping his heels up on it. “The truth, for one. You’re no more a reporter than I am a merengue dancer. So, out with it. What are you, high school? College? Lose a bet?”

  


“College. Queenscrown.” Mya stared at her hands, feeling utterly foolish. _What were you thinking? You can’t just stroll into someplace like this and expect to own the joint and now you’ve been found out. He’s going to make a fool out of you and boot you to the curb._

  


“Queenscrown.” Jaime nodded, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Fish?”

  


“Sophomore.”

  


“You didn’t grow up here, did you?” He shuffled a stack of papers on his desk, glancing down at one of them. 

  


“No. Is it that obvious?” Mya wished for nothing more than to run screaming from this office and never return.

  


Jaime smiled at her, and it wasn’t the public relations smile she was used to seeing in the papers. This one was sly, calculating. “In some ways, yes. You don’t have the same grit to you that someone born and raised here would have. So tell me, where’re you from?”

  


“Eyrie. It’s a few hours north of here, near-”

  


He held up a hand. “I know where it is - quite familiar with it, actually. Must be a big change for you. There’s what, 6 people living there? 7?” Jaime chuckled at his own wit.

  


Mya’s smile was a bit tight. “It’s small, yes, but if all cities were the size of Kingsport imagine the trouble we’d all have.”

  


“Quite true. Speaking of trouble, Miss Stone, do you have any idea how much I might be able to make for someone here, in a city this size, when they have no connections? Especially, say, someone who comes strolling into City Hall like she owns the joint and makes unreasonable demands of a woman who’s been working here longer than she’s been alive?”

  


_He’s certainly not one to beat around any bushes._ Mya swallowed, dragging her eyes upward and feeling much like a misbehaving student sent to the principal. “I can imagine.”

  


Jaime smiled again, downright coy this time. “I don’t think you can. Not fully. Never the less, it takes a certain amount of nerve to attempt what you did today, and I can appreciate that.”

  


The knot of shame gripping Mya’s stomach seemed to ease slightly, and she looked up. “You can?”

  


“Absolutely. Listen, Miss Stone,” Here Jaime swung his feet off his desk and sat forward. “In order to make it anywhere in life, especially these days, sometimes you have to be creative, and creativity isn’t something that comes naturally to a lot of folks. It’s a bit of an art form, if I’m being completely honest.”

  


“Creative.” Mya replied dubiously. 

  


Jaime shrugged easily, examining an invisible spot on his tie. “Creative. Manipulative. You’re obviously not afraid to lie to people, although you have very little skill at it.”

  


“It doesn’t come naturally to me.” Mya cocked a grin in spite of herself. “I prefer total honesty.” _Except where it concerns telling Eloise Hedgen the truth about her rear end.._.

  


“Your parents must be so proud.” She couldn’t tell if the sincerity on Jaime’s face was genuine or not, and it made her wonder if he was having a go at her.

  


“My mother is.”

  


“Your father isn’t?”

  


“He would be.” _If he even knew I existed._

_  
_

Jaime was appraising her with those green eyes of his, and Mya stared levelly back, determined not to let him see her squirm any more than he already had. “What’s so important about Baratheon’s last edict, anyway? Why do you have to see it?”

  


She pursed her lips, thinking. _It wouldn’t do to rat out one brother to the other. For all you know Tyrion already told Jaime about your little conversation with him and this is just some sort of cat and mouse game they’re playing_. “As a favor.”

  


“To who?”

  


“I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid.”

  


“That’s right, you’re young. You still have some integrity ”Jaime shook his head. “Four or five years, Miss Stone, and that’ll wear off.” He scribbled something on a piece of scratch paper and handed it over to her. “I like you, Miss Stone. I think you’re very fresh, however, and  very green, and you stand every chance of being absolutely destroyed by this city if you chose to stay, but if you make the right choices, you could do well. I’m giving you the contact information of a friend of mine. He might be able to help you get a leg up in your industry.” 

  


Mya felt her self-interest snuffling along like a curious beagle, took the slip and read it. Her eyes widened. “Mace Tyrell? The Mace Tyrell? Who owns the _Kingsport Lantern_ and-”

  


“-and ninety-five percent of the other media outlets in the Tri-State area, yes.” Jaime tented his fingers under his chin. “He’s also got some vested interest in other investments, but that’s nothing that’ll interest you, I’m sure. Not yet, at least. Ring him up sometime, and when you’ve built up a portfolio I’m sure he’d love to take a look at it.”

  


“I...I don’t know what to say.”

  


“‘Thank you’ would be nice, or do they not teach the simple courtesies up in Eyrie?” Jaime stood and opened his office door. “Also, I’d appreciate in a few years, once you’ve climbed your way up your ladder a bit, to remember who put you there and try not to smear my name too badly.”

  


Mya laughed; she couldn’t help it. Tucking the slip of paper away in her purse, she smiled and tucked her hair behind an ear. “Thank you, Mr. Lannister. When I convince Mace Tyrell to make me an editor I’ll make sure the _Lantern_ does nothing but sing your praises.”

  


Once outside, Mya’s smile only grew. Sure, her ploy hadn’t paid off quite like she wanted to. _It went better than you could’ve imagined. One well-timed phone call and you could have your career in the bag, Stone. Not half bad_. She did wonder what her professor would say about it. His interest in seeing Robert’s signature had seemed genuine... _he’s a Lannister just the same as Jaime or the mayor. He’s probably already seen it and was just seeing if you had the gall to try and get a look at it yourself. He’s tricky like that_.  Nevertheless, she should flag him down after her next class, keep him in the know.

  


One thing Jaime said had jagged in Mya’s mind. “Your father?” he’d inquired. Mya had no idea who her father was. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and it had earned her no small bit of scorn from her schoolmates once they realized that it was just her and her mother. When she was ten, she’d finally worked up the gumption to ask her mother about him.

  


She remembered the conversation keenly - her mother had been scrubbing the dinner dishes in their small, sunny kitchen while Mya sat at their scarred kitchen table, struggling with a set of math problems. She could still recall the metal taste in her mouth as she chewed on the eraser end of her pencil, looking over at her mother.Alyce Stone had been pretty once, Mya was sure. Once her faded yellow hair had been a gleaming gold, and her tired brown eyes sparkling topazes. This particular day, she’d heard boys at school refer to her as ‘dumpy’, saying if she’d kept herself pretty, maybe Mya wouldn’t be a fatherless whelp. What she’d done to them in return had earned her the first of many trips to the Principal's office. 

  


“Mama, how come I don’t have a father like everyone else?”

  


Alyce’s hands had stilled in the soapy water for a moment before she pulled them out, drying them on the apron she wore. She sat across from Mya, resting her chin on her fist. “Why’re you asking, baby?”

  


Mya shrugged. “At the May Day picnic last week everyone else had their dad there.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell her mother what the boys had said. She’d gotten a big enough look of disappointment from Alyce when she’d come home from school bearing the Principal’s note. “Where’s mine?”

  


Alyce sighed and in retrospect, Mya realized it was a conversation she’d been dreading. “Your father...he has other responsibilities. But don’t think for a second that he doesn’t care very, very much about you.”

  


Mya had scowled petulantly. “Buy why isn’t he here? And why doesn’t he come see me for my birthday, or for Christmas or anything?” She idly dug her pencil tip into the wood of the table. “Never even sends a card.”

  


Alyce reached over and plucked the pencil out of Mya’s hand. “Don’t do that. Anyway, Mya, you have all you need from him. You got his hair, his pretty eyes...” She reached over and tickled Mya’s belly, making the girl giggle. “His laugh too. I know you want to know him, Mya, and you will.  Maybe not as soon as you want, but I promise you you will. For now, if anyone gives you any lip, though, I don’t want to get any more notes from your school saying you slammed any more hands in lockers, understand?” Mya had nodded, albeit hesitantly. _There are so many other ways to get back at them. She didn’t say anything about dunking their heads in the toilets._ “Good.” Alyce seemed satisfied and pulled Mya’s homework towards her. “Now, what’re you working on here...”

  


_Long division, that night._.. she remembered as she tripped up the 5 flights of stairs to her room, bursting through the door, dumping her bag on her bed and throwing her window wide open to the crisp autumn air filtering through the city. The sun was just starting to dip below the tallest of the city’s buildings, bathing them all in a crisp golden glow. _I’ll call her tomorrow, see if I can’t arrange a meeting with my old man.  It’ll be a long overdue family reunion_. Mya inhaled deeply, her mind made up, only to gasp as her door banged open behind her. Spinning, she saw Roslin enter, artlessly tossing her books on her desk and grabbing her purse. “Come on, the car’s waiting!”

  


Mya raised her eyebrows. “We have a car?”

  


“Sort of.” Roslin looped her arm through Mya’s. “Remember, I said we were going shopping to get me a dress for Policeman’s Ball today? I called up Robb’s sister Sansa - she’s been real down in the dumps ever since her father died, not that I blame her, poor thing, and her mother let her borrow her uncle’s car to come into down and go shopping with us. I bought one of Robb’s tickets to the ball for her. She’ll be sort of a third wheel, I know, but she needs to get out and cut loose a little. Robb thinks so too, and I know that you’re not going to the ball because no one’s asked you, but everyone likes shopping, so let’s go! We can’t stay out too late though, because Robb’s mother wants Sansa back by dark.”

  


“Actually...” Mya let Roslin drag her down the hall towards the stairs. “Theon did ask me the other day.”

  


Roslin paused, eyebrow quirked. “He did?”

  


“Mmmhm. Called me up and managed to make a date and insult Eloise’s lumpy bottom all in one go.” Mya smiled a bit, thinking about the way the other girl had flounced off to her room. _Really, it wouldn’t kill her to lay off the sweets though_... Mya shook her head. “He was a bit of a pig about it.”

  


“Of course he was. Haven’t I been telling you that all along?” Roslin tripped down the last few stairs and nodded towards the same Cadillac from Theon’s disastrous attempt to treat Mya to the Blue Room. “Anyway, that’s Sansa. Jory just taught her how to drive a few months ago - she’s real good at it except for a month or so ago she may’ve gone through a garage door instead of opening it but don’t bring that up because she’s still a little touchy about it.” She waved at the girl behind the wheel, crossing in front of the car and opening the passenger side, popping the seat forward. “In the boot you go, Mya!”

  


Mya smiled at the driver as she slid into the backseat. She was an extraordinarily pretty girl, with flowing coppery hair and the same piercing blue eyes as Robb. She smiled shyly in return. “Hello.” 

  


“Sansa, this is Mya. She’s going to the ball too, I guess. Although her date is a complete cad.” Roslin slid into the front seat.

  


“Who’re you going with?” Sansa glanced in the rearview mirror as she edged the boat-like Cadillac back into traffic, wincing as a sporty little coupe swerved and laid on the horn, barely missing clipping the rear bumper.

  


Roslin didn’t let Mya answer. “She’s going with Theon, can you imagine? She’s got such a crush on him.”

  


“Shut your gob, Roslin, I do not! He’s just not nearly the scum you make him out to be.” Mya couldn’t help but smile. 

  


“He really isn’t.” Sansa tried to work the car back into traffic again and succeeded, rolling more or less smoothly down the street. “Were you the one he got  himself all pretty for last weekend?”

  


“I certainly hope so, unless he’s got some other girl he’s taking out.” Mya bit back a grimace as Sansa manhandled the transmission into another gear, thanking her stars the girl hadn’t taken Theon’s precious Rolls. She’d never seen a man cry before, but she was pretty sure if Sansa Stark ever got a hold of that car, she would see at least two weeping openly.

  


“Oh, I doubt it- oops, that’s a one-way street...” Sansa maneuvered the Cadillac in an awkward 3-point turn. “Anyway, don’t listen to Roslin. She’s just jealous because some weeks Robb sees Theon more than her.”

  


“Only until next summer.” Roslin said with an air of finality. “After the wedding Robb’s going to see so much of me he’s going to go mad.” She sighed wistfully, gazing out the car’s window. “It’ll be magical...”

  


Sansa’s eyes met Mya’s in the mirror again, and the two muffled their snickers. After another twenty harrowing minutes Sansa slid the Cadillac most of the way into a parking spot near a high-end boutique Mya had often seen fliers for, but had never dared to go inside.Theon did say to send him the bill...right before he hung up on me, the chump. Swallowing any reservations she had, Mya followed Roslin and Sansa into the store.

  


Before she knew it, she and Sansa sat on a low chaise with their selections made, while Roslin fretted over several others, vanishing into the dressing room with a harried attendant for what felt like hours at a time. Sansa toyed with the clasp on her purse, opening and closing it in a quiet rhythm. While Roslin chatted on inanely in the dressing room, Mya turned towards Sansa. “You picked the perfect dress. Really, you’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  


Sansa smiled that shy smile of hers and looked at her dress hanging on a hook on the wall. The long, white silk column had clung to her burgeoning  curves in a way Mya was sure would send her brother into an apoplectic rage which may’ve been what Sansa was after. Mya’s choice was a flowing lilac number, more revealing than she’d normally wear and with a name on the label she’d never be able to pronounce. She’d felt dizzy as she looked at the price tag, but hadn’t let it change her mind.

  


“Mother said I should get something that’d make me look like a real debutante.” Sansa’s smile wavered. “She and my Dad were going to throw a proper party before...” Her brilliant blue eyes clouded, and she looked away.

  


Mya felt her heart pang for the girl. She was only sixteen, far too young to have to shoulder the kind of burden she’d been given. _Ros was right to invite her. She should be worrying about pretty dresses and how do to her hair and boys, not about how she’s never going to see her father again._ Reaching over, she gave a sympathetic smile and tucked a lock of hair behind Sansa’s ear. “Are you bringing anyone to the ball?”

  


The younger girl shrugged. “There’s someone I was going to ask but I think he’s going to be there anyway.”

  


“Oh? Tell me about him.” Mya tucked a leg under her and gave her full attention to Sansa. “What’s his name?”

  


“Joff...Joffrey Baratheon. He’s the mayor’s son. Our dads are...were close, and we go to the same high school.”

  


_God, at least they have something in common._ Mya flinched internally at the morbid thought, pushing it quickly from her mind. She forced a smile. “Is he cute?”

  


Sansa’s smile widened, and she slumped against the back of the chaise. “He’s...” She seemed to cast about for words. “He’s darb, honest. He’s got this blond hair and these eyes...”

  


Mya couldn’t help but laugh. _This is what her life should be_. “Well, you wear that dress and do your hair, doll yourself up and I promise you he’ll be after you all night.”

  


“Don’t let Robb hear you say that,” Roslin finally emerged from the dressing room wrapped in a long, heavily beaded scarlet gown. “He thinks she’s not old enough to be thinking about boys.”

  


“And how old was he when he first noticed girls?” Mya rolled her eyes. “That dress looks divine on you, Rosie, right Sansa?” Sansa nodded quickly. It was creeping up on closing time, they’d been there for hours, and they were both tired and hungry. Right now, Mya and Sansa didn’t rightly care if Roslin went to the Policeman’s Ball naked.

  


Ten minutes later Roslin’s jaw dropped as the boutique’s clerk rang up Mya’s dress. “Mya Stone! That’s...that’s a two-hundred dollar dress!”

  
Mya just smiled demurely, and gave the clerk Theon’s address at the precinct. “Expedite the bill, please. I want to make sure he gets it as soon as possible.” _You just try hanging up on me again, Theon Greyjoy_.  
  


Next Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.


	12. The Policeman's Ball

Theon opened the door to the Rolls, offering a hand to Mya as she climbed out gracefully. _Goddamn, that dress..._ It was a pale, pale lilac, but it wasn’t really the color that interested him, although it made a pleasing contrast with her inky black hair. The cut of it...so low in the front, artfully draped, yet clinging to her body, emphasized her lean curves in all the right places. Theon was having a difficult time not booting Robb and Roslin out of their usual spot in the backseat, and tossing her back there.  
  
In fact, he’d been having a hard time not doing that every time they’d gone out for the past few weeks. As Robb helped Roslin out of the back seat, Theon contemplated exactly how much longer he could stand it, and decided it was a matter of hours. He watched as Mya and Roslin made some mysterious adjustments to each other’s dresses, which looked exactly the same after they’d finished, and Robb dug around in the back seat for his bow tie.  
  
“Come on, boys!” Roslin’s cheeks were bright with excitement, and she was clutching Mya’s hand, dragging the other girl towards the grand steps of the museum. “Robb, what’re you _doing_? Hurry up!”  
  
Mya and Theon’s eyes met briefly, and he could tell she was holding back a laugh, her entire expression was one of barely suppressed mirth. He took her hand, pulling her away from Roslin, as they all climbed the slick marble steps, leaning down to whisper to her. “ _She_ was the one that took the damn thing off of him, for Chrissake. Now just you watch this...” He nodded at the other couple; Roslin was haranguing a befuddled Robb, who was struggling to tie his bow tie back on, and failing miserably.  
  
Mya laughed, a warm sound that Theon hadn’t tired of yet, knocking him lightly in the ribs with an elbow. “Don’t tell me...you tied it for him earlier, didn’t you? You two, I swear...”  
  
“Nope. Sansa did us both up, the angel.” He swept one of the museum’s doors open for her, grinning, a wave of soft jazz drifting out past them into the night.  
  
“Doesn’t Sansa look terrific tonight?” Roslin interrupted, looking back and forth between him and Robb expectantly. “She was worried you two’d make her change or something, but I just told her, ‘If they say a word, you just tell them to scram, because you are the bee’s knees!’ and I really think she is. That dress is just spectacular on her! I mean, it’s nothing like mine,” she glanced at Theon slyly, shrugging out of her fur wrap and handing it to the coatcheck girl. “Or Mya’s, of course.”  
  
Theon closed his eyes a brief second, willing himself to think about how damn fine she looked in it, and not about the cost. He felt Mya lean into him as she stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek, slipping a cool hand under his tuxedo jacket and up his back. He could feel her fingers tracing his spine... _Fuck, does she know what she does to me? If she’s not careful, I’ll have her on a pile of furs in the coat room, I swear to Christ..._  
  
“Thank you again, Detective Greyjoy,” Mya’s lips were a bare inch from his ear, breath warm on his cheek. “I thought you’d like it...” Their friends had moved ahead of them, into the Egyptian wing of the museum where the ball was being held, and she’d taken the opportunity to mold her body to his in most distracting fashion.  
  
“Oh, I do, doll, I do.” He couldn’t help but press back against her for a split second, but now was neither the time nor the place, so he just kissed her lightly and offered her his arm. “I’ll like it much better on the floor at my place, though. And so will you, I promise you that.”  
  
She laughed, a bit breathlessly, as they made their way into the party. “We’ll just see about that, Detective.” She looked up at him, eyes dancing. “You know, Eloise Hedgen was right...you do have some nerve.”  
  
“Damn straight I do,” Theon replied, smiling sharply. As if _she_ had any room to talk about nerve, buying a $200 dollar dress, and expediting him the bill.  
  
He caught sight of Lancel Lannister across the room, two black eyes marring his otherwise debonair appearance. The clod had been stupid enough to laugh with Robb when Theon had gotten the bill from Petit Bijou right there in the precinct. Two months’ salary. On a fucking dress. Seeing it on her now, as they made their way to a table, he was still astonished that such a little amount of fabric, some of it _sheer_ , could cost so much.  
  
“Oh, Theon, it’s Professor Lannister! I need to say hello to him,” Mya was practically dragging him past their own table, a fairly prime spot, and towards the her teacher’s table, separate from the rest of the Lannisters. “Professor Lannister, so nice to see you here! I didn’t know you were coming.” As they approached the table, Theon noticed the statuesque redhead seated next to the man the daily rags called the Imp. _Roz? The Imp brought a two-bit_ whore _to the city’s biggest party? He really must enjoy cheesing his father off._  
  
“Ah, but of course,” Tyrion Lannister said, smiling warmly at Mya. “I never miss the Policeman’s Ball, my dear.” His mismatched eyes turned to rest on Theon, seeming to cool considerably, though his smile never wavered. “And this must be your young man? The Greyjoy lad, yes?”  
  
Theon held back a snort. _Lad. Pretentious bastard._ “Theon Greyjoy,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Detective with the Kingsport PD.” The Imp’s hand was small, of course, but he had a surprisingly strong grip.  
  
“Ah, the infamous Detective Greyjoy, who keeps my prized pupil out too late on weekday nights,” Lannister’s eyes flicked over Theon’s shoulder, widening slightly before returning to him. “Although _hardly_ the most infamous of the Greyjoys, to be sure.” The tone of his voice made it clear that one of Theon’s more well-known family members was somewhere behind him.  
  
Theon kept his eyes trained on the smaller man in front of him; he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking. “To be sure. Although you are most certainly the most infamous of your family, I’d reckon.” He felt Mya pinch the inside of his arm sharply, but Tyrion Lannister just laughed, a raucous, drunken sound.  
  
“That I am, Greyjoy.” His eyes lit up wickedly. “Forgive me, I’m afraid I’ve failed to introduce my companion for the evening. Roz, this is Mya Stone, a student of mine. You’ve met Detective Greyjoy, I believe.”  
  
“I have,” Roz purred, and Theon recalled the last time they’d “met”, how hard and rough it had been, how he’d been drowning his frustration about being unable to have Mya.  
  
 _Oh God, and now..._ Roz was chatting with Mya, and he wanted to snatch the fork from Tyrion Lannister’s hand and stab the man in the eye with it. The smug grin on his face told Theon the smaller man knew Theon’s mind, was judging him. _Just another Greyjoy underneath the badge, another violent thug._ It rankled, but Theon was distracted by the women.  
  
“...a beautiful dress. Didn’t I see it in the window at Petit Bijou just last week?” Roz was asking.  
  
“You sure did,” Mya said, toying with the pendant around her neck and glancing up at Theon from beneath her lashes. It would’ve made him ache to take her in his arms, if he weren’t too busy sweating bullets. “ _Someone_ felt guilty for his bad behavior, and gave me free rein with his wallet.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m quite sure he’ll be better behaved in the future.”  
  
Tyrion raised an eyebrow at Theon, who just shrugged. _Fuck him and his arch looks...the Lannisters aren’t the only ones with cash to burn._ “Oh, I wouldn’t count on it, ” Roz said, laughing softly, and Theon couldn’t take it any longer.  
  
“Come on, doll,” he said, taking her arm. “We’d better find Robb and Roslin, before they give our seats away. Lannister, Roz. A pleasure,” he nodded curtly, lying through his teeth.  
  
“As always,” came Roz’s reply, her laughter low and musical. Theon didn’t wait another second, practically dragging Mya away as she tossed a ‘good-bye’ over her shoulder to her professor.  
  
“Jeepers, Theon, what’d you have to drag me away for? I don’t want to come off as rude to him, he’s been so helpful to me, and he’s really a swell teacher.”  
  
“I’m sure he is,” Theon bent his head to speak directly in her ear as they walked, the room too loud and hectic for normal conversation. “But I wanted a dance with you, and a drink.” He pressed his lips to a spot behind the curve of her ear, a spot that always made her sigh and lose a bit of the self-control he both admired and despaired of, but not enough, never enough for him.  
  
Sure enough, he felt her shiver slightly and press closer to him. When he glanced down, he saw goosebumps prickling her arm, and couldn’t help but smile. Mya followed his gaze, and smiled back coyly. “You see what you do to me, Detective?”  
  
 _God above, if her body is this responsive to a simple kiss..._ Theon felt his cock twitch at the thoughts that followed: of stripping her dress off slowly, or maybe not so slowly, running his hands along the soft curves of her, taking her to his bed and keeping her there until the sun rose the next day. _Fucking hell, control yourself..._ He hadn’t been so intensely focused on a woman since, well, ever. Of course, he’d never been with a woman this long and not had her seven ways from Sunday.  
  
“Theon. Theon?” The jostling of his arm brought him out of his reverie, and he smiled sharply, bringing his gaze back to her eyes, such a startling shade of blue.  
  
“Sorry, dove. You distracted me,” he said, nodding absentmindedly at Stannis Baratheon as he strode by, as grim as usual. “Now, how ‘bout that dance?”  
  
They looked for Robb and Roslin on the dance floor, but the party had grown, and there was barely room for them as it was. Theon gathered Mya into his arms, one hand, as usual, far lower on her back than was strictly necessary, as the band struck up “Stardust”. His heart constricted, _What the fuck...?_ , as she suddenly beamed, giving her head an impatient shake as a stray curl flipped up across her cheek.  
  
“Oh, this song!” She stuck her tongue out at him playfully when he gave her a quizzical look. “We danced to it at the Blue Room, don’t you remember?”  
  
“Of course I do,” he said, stretching the truth. He remembered dancing with her at the Blue Room, definitely. The way she’d fit perfectly into his arms, the smell of her perfume lingering on his jacket, the sway of her hips against his...these things were all but seared into his brain, it seemed. The song? Not so much. But if it made her happy to think he remembered the song, well, then he’d let her continue to think so.  
  
Mya giggled, “I don’t think you do, Theon.” She opened her mouth to continue, but paused, blinking. “Ohh, look at Sansa...she looks perfect, doesn’t she?”  
  
“She does look nice toni-” He followed her line of sight, scowling when he saw Sansa and her dancing partner. “The fuck is she doing dancing with _him_? If Robb sees...”  
  
He felt her foot come down on his, hard, and he tore his eyes off the sight of Sansa and Jaime Lannister to stare incredulously at Mya. “What was that for?!” She was smiling, and dancing so smoothly, he’d have thought he imagined it, except for his throbbing toes.  
  
“You just shut your gob and let her be, Theon Greyjoy. She was so excited about tonight, and you know she hasn’t had enough good things in her life lately.” Mya nodded at another pair of dancers. “And look there. That boy the mayor’s dancing with? That’s the one she’s keen on, I think. The mayor’s son, Joffrey.”  
  
Theon nodded sourly. “I know the boy. If he weren’t Cersei and Robert’s son, I’d’ve seen him downtown by now. A real shit, that one.” He planted a light kiss along the part of Mya’s hair absentmindedly, watching as Sansa craned her neck to smile warmly at Jaime Lannister. He supposed Mya was right, although with the suspicions she’d raised in him with regard to the Lannisters, he still felt uneasy. And he knew if Robb saw, it wouldn’t end well.  
  
“Stardust” eventually came to an end, and couples began to drift apart, finding new partners or leaving the dance floor to rest their feet. Mya made a move to let go of his hand, but Theon just pulled her closer, shaking his head. “No, I want you all for myself.”  
  
She blushed slightly, but stayed where she was. “Look,” she said quietly. “Sansa’s going to dance with Joffrey now. She really likes him, can’t you see it?”  
  
Before he could reply, Theon felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Come now, nephew, don’t be greedy. I’d like a dance with Miss Stone, and I’m sure your sister would love to dance with you. God only knows why.” The small seed of dread Tyrion Lannister had planted in his gut earlier at the mention of his family was blooming like a noxious weed. He knew that voice, could hear the menace behind the relatively pleasant words.  
  
“Theon?” He could tell Mya was unsure of the situation, but trying to be polite. “This isn’t your uncle Victarion that we saw at the Blue Room, is it?”  
  
Asha laughed out loud, a harsh sound, but Euron merely smiled, holding out a hand to Mya. “My dear girl, if you’d actually met Victarion, you’d never mistake me for him. Euron Greyjoy. Theon and Asha’s beloved uncle.”  
  
Theon held back a flinch when Mya took the proffered hand and was smoothly pulled from his arms to his uncle’s side, though he didn’t try and hold on to her at all. He knew it was pointless to resist, so he just held a cold hand out to his sister, trying to ignore Mya’s confused glance. When Euron put an arm around her, hand even lower on her back than his own had been, Theon gritted his teeth and yanked Asha into position.  
  
“Hey now, brother, don’t blame it on me,” Asha was still chuckling softly. “When uncle Euron gets something in his head, well, that’s just how it’s gotta be.”  
  
He was watching his uncle with Mya over his sister’s shoulder. The man hadn’t seemed to age at all since the last time Theon had seen him, years ago. Tall and dark-haired with the sharp, angular features of all the Greyjoys, he was leaner than his brothers, but with a hard strength to him that made even Vic bow before him. _And the eyepatch..._ Theon couldn’t help but shudder slightly, and Asha looked at him questioningly.  
  
“I don’t care for the way he’s dancing with her,” he simply said. No point in trying to explain further; Asha was clearly part of this, whatever this was. He hoped it was only the two of them trying to get his goat, but he rather doubted it. Asha’s next words confirmed his doubts.  
  
“She’s fine, for now. But uncle Euron needs something from you. We all do, frankly.” Theon watched as Euron bent his head to Mya’s, whispering in her ear, and a faint blush crept up her neck. “Theon!” Asha stomped on his foot, the same one Mya had maimed earlier, and he bit back a cry, though only just. “Are you listening to me? Pay attention, this is important.”  
  
“I’m listening,” he said sullenly. What more could they possibly want from him?  
  
“You know Mace Tyrell, yeah?” Theon just nodded, willing the band to hurry up and finish the song. “He’s going to come to you. Soon. With a story about the family...he wants to bust us wide open. He’ll seem to be on your side, or the side of the law, anyway, but don’t be fooled, he’s got dirt on you too. We don’t know how yet. There’s a rat somewhere...” Asha went on, leaning in so close they were cheek-to-cheek, looking more like lovers than siblings.  
  
Theon fought down the urge to shove her away, merely commenting, “Surprised you didn’t think I was the rat.” This was bad, very bad. He had no doubt of what was coming, and while it made him sick to think of it, he couldn’t, could _not_ , be exposed.  
  
Asha laughed softly. “We did. But with what he’s got now...well, we know it isn’t you. Also, we’ve been keeping tabs on you...we’d’ve seen if you’d met with him.” She squeezed his hand hard as Euron dipped a decidedly anxious-looking Mya, then pulled her back far too close to him. “You understand what needs to happen, don’t you?”  
  
“Persuade him not to...Jesus fuck, Asha, I’m supposed to stand here and watch this?” He jerked his chin at their uncle, whose hand was now at the top of Mya’s ass. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off it all night, and apparently Euron was unable to keep his hands off it.  
  
She glanced over at the other pair, and snorted. “That’s uncle Euron for ya. And not persuade, baby brother. Stop him. Period. If you don’t...” She glanced at Mya, pressed close to Euron and looking panicked. “He won’t be happy.”  
  
Theon had had enough. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if he’s not happy, I’m not _killing_ Mace fucking Tyrell. Do you know the kind of heat that would come down on whoever did that?” He watched, furious, as his uncle brushed a kiss across Mya’s cheek, and that was all he could take. “No. Fuck him, you, and the whole family. I’m not killing the media mogul of the Tri-State area so Euron can avoid a little bad press.”  
  
“Theon, be smart. I know that’s hard for you...” But he’d already let go of his sister, striding past her and grabbing Mya by the wrist, only to feel a hot hand on his own wrist, clamping down so hard he could feel bones grinding together.  
  
“Careful, boy.” Euron looked as if he were about to say something else, his dark eyes flashing dangerously for a split-second, but he just let go of Theon’s wrist and released his hold on Mya as well. He held a hand out to Asha, eyes still locked on Theon’s. When she took it, he nodded curtly and turned away, Asha trailing after him without a backwards glance.  
  
Mya was on him the second they’d turned away, both arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed to his chest, not even pretending to dance. She was trembling, he discovered as he gently put an arm around her. _That goddamn snake...I shouldn’t have let go of her._ Theon put a hand to the nape of her neck, thumb brushing the ends of her silky curls, realizing that he’d come to feel more than just lust for this girl.  
  
“Mya, dove, I’m so sorry...” But when she tilted her face up to his, he saw that it wasn’t fear, or at least not completely, that had her quaking.  
  
“What in God’s name,” she spit out, “was that? I mean, _you_ get fresh...he was just, just...despicable.”  
  
“That’d be my uncle Euron for ya,” he said bitterly. “And Asha, of course. Always so helpful.” But of course he couldn’t tell her about what he and his sister had discussed. Theon sighed. “C’mon, let’s go get a drink and sit. Find Robb and Roslin maybe? Dancing has lost its appeal, don’t you think?”  
  
They failed at finding Robb and Roslin, but snagging two glasses of water hadn’t been a problem. Nor had dumping them and refilling with a few fingers each of hooch from Theon’s flask. Mya sipped hers neatly, while Theon belted his back, needing something to soothe his frayed nerves. He wanted to tell Mya about his discussion with Asha, he realized with some surprise. _Since when did I tell anyone anything?_ But that would be foolhardy, to say the least.  
  
“What did Asha want?” Mya said frankly, startling Theon. “She looked...not angry, but not happy either.” She put a hand over his, and he almost gave in and spilled it all right then and there. But instead he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, silencing her questions. He felt her hesitate a moment before kissing back, almost hungrily, and when he put a hand high on her thigh, so warm under the sheer fabric of the infamous dress, she didn’t push it away.  
  
That was how Robb found them, minutes later, when he came rushing up with the news. “Greyjoy,” the words came tumbling out, “we’ve got to get outta here. A body got dumped, right outside the stationhouse downtown, and...” He trailed off uneasily, glancing at Mya. “It’s not good.”  
  
Theon gave Mya a long-suffering smile and a firm squeeze on the thigh before standing and pulling Robb aside. “It better be fuckin’ horrible, otherwise I’m not interested, Stark. Give it to someone else. Dondarrion and Thoros, maybe.”  
  
“It’s a woman...or what’s left of her.” His partner’s next words sent a chill down Theon’s spine, and he knew he was done dancing for the night. “The skin’s gone off half her body...but...” Robb was pale, but he continued on, “She was still alive when they found her.”  
  
Theon cocked his head, certain he’d misheard, but Robb merely nodded at him. “Mother’s already taken Sansa home in the Rolls, and Roslin decided to go with them.” He spoke slightly louder, apologetic now. “I sure am sorry about this, Mya, especially since Roslin deserted you.”  
  
From her wide-eyed stare, Theon could tell that Mya’d overheard more than she probably should have, but to her credit, she held it together well. “No, no, you fellas have a job to do,” she stood, taking Theon’s arm with a slightly queasy smile. “A cab’ll be just fine, I think.”  
  
“C’mon, doll, let me walk you out, at least,” Theon said. His mind had already shifted gears, thinking of what needed to be done for this new case, but there was a prickling in the back of his senses, an odd...itch that made him want to take Mya back to Riverrun with Roslin and the family. He shook his head, there wasn’t time for that now; she’d be fine in a cab, and sleep best in her own bed.


	13. Thief in the Night

Mya twisted around in the back of the taxi, lifting a hand in farewell to Theon who nodded in return, one hand already drawing out his pack of Luckies. He looked disappointed and frustrated, something she was understanding all too well.  _ Would’ve been too much to ask for just one night where he could maybe forget everything and have fun? _ She recalled the gentle pressure of his lips against that spot just behind her ear, how close he’d held her when they danced, the rapid staccato of his heartbeat under her ear.  _ If only his uncle hadn’t shown up... _ Mya tried as a rule to not judge folks without getting to know them, but Euron Greyjoy...she shuddered as she remembered his hands on her and the unnatural gleam in his remaining eye. The things he’d whispered to her had made her feel downright nauseous.   
  
    The way Euron and Theon had eyed each other hadn’t made her feel any better about the situation. Something had passed between the two men and Asha that Mya didn’t understand, and Theon hadn’t offered any details after he’d yanked her away from his uncle. The whole thing had left a bit of a sour feeling in her stomach, a dark spot on what should’ve been a magical night. She glanced back again as the cab rounded a corner and saw Theon finally head back into the museum, shoulders slumped. For a split second she nearly stopped the cab, fighting the urge to run back to him and the unexpected safety of his embrace.  _ None of that now. He’s got a job to do and from the sounds of it, it’s going to be a rough one. And anyway, he said he’d call tomorrow. _   
  
    The cab driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, lifting a dark, bushy eyebrow. “Seems like a chump way to end a date, you ask me.”   
  
_ I didn’t. _ “Yes, well...” Mya smoothed her skirt over her knees, trying to ignore the pangs of disappointment flaring up in her belly . “He’s got a job to do.”   
  
    “Don’t we all, kid?” The cab driver returned his attention to the road. “What’s he do, anyway, your fella? Must be a pretty highfalutin gig if he can afford to take ya out to a party that size.”   
  
    “He’s a detective, and a good one at that.” Mya couldn’t help but smile. Truth be told she had no idea how good at his job Theon was, but she was nothing if not loyal. “And it was the Policeman’s Ball.”   
  
    The cab driver shrugged and opened his mouth to respond when there was a sudden banging noise and the cab skidded wildly across the pavement. Mya was thrown against the door, banging her head painfully on the frame. “Hang on, kid!” The cab driver wrenched the wheel hard, and Mya felt a hard jolt as the car flew up over the curb. Through the windshield she saw the telephone pole a split second before the cab crashed into it, throwing her hard against the seat in front of her.   
  
    The silence after the crash was eerie. May lay dazed, crumpled in the back of the cab. Her head throbbed, and every time she took a breath, something grated in her side. If she turned her head...there. She could see the driver laying slumped across the front seat. “Sir?” Her voice was thin. She cleared her throat and immediately regretted it, a ribbon of pain lacing through her ribs.  _ Broken.. . _ _Fossoway’ll kill me. There’s a tournament in two weeks._  “Sir?”   
  
    There was no answer. Faintly, Mya heard footsteps approaching.  _ Thank God. They’ll call an ambulance and Theon and- _ the door near her head was wrenched open, and she blinked in the harsh streetlight. She couldn’t see the face of the figure looming over her, only that he was solidly built. “Please,” she said. “The driver, I don’t think he’s-”   
  
    She didn’t see the butt of his gun until it came crashing down on her head. The first blow stunned her, the second brought a heavy darkness.   
  
  
\-----------   
  


“You  _ idiot _ . She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Weren’t you listening to anything Euron said?”

  
    “The driver ran a red light. If he’d’ve stopped they wouldn’t have-”   
  
    “Shut up. Just...just shut up. Did you  _ really _ have to pistol whip her?  _ Twice _ , Qarl?”   
  
    “She was gonna put up a fight.”   
  
    “She’s five-foot-five and a hundred ten pounds soaking wet! What was she gonna do, break a nail on you? Jesus! Just...get out of here. Send my uncle Vic in if you see ‘im, yeah?”   
  
    There was a long pause. “Yeah, sure.”   
  
    The voices seemed to be coming from a long way away, bells in the distance, and one sounded vaguely familiar.  _ Eloise....no. Someone else. Where’ve I heard them before? _ Mya struggled to open her eyes, managing to crack one open half an inch. It proved to be a mistake - bright light speared into her head and she groaned. There was a dull, steady ache in her jaw and a horrid taste in the back of her throat - copper mixed with something bitter she couldn’t place.   
  
    The voices quieted, then the first spoke again. “Go on, get outta here. Stop by the club later, and I’ll make it worth your while.”   
  
    The second grunted, and Mya heard a door shut, more footsteps approaching. A cool hand brushed her forehead. “Mya? You wakin’ up?”   
  
    Mya forced her eyes open, swallowing hard against the pounding in her head. “What happened? Where’m I? Did...where’s Theon?”   
  
    “He’s not here, kiddo. You took a bit of a nasty bump, unfortunately. Can you sit up?”    
  
    “That light...”   
  
    The light eased, either turned off or angled away. Mya didn’t know and didn’t really care. A strong, ropey arm wrapped around her shoulders, helping her to sit up, was finally able to make out their features.   
  
    “Asha?!”    
  
    Asha Greyjoy handed her a glass of water, smiling a bit ruefully. “Nice to see you again, Mya.”   
  
    “What happened?” Mya asked again. “Please, Asha, call Theon. He’ll take me home...or Roslin, please...”   
  
    “Your cab got into a bit of an accident, but you’re fine. And you’re going to  _ be _ fine. Just relax now.” Asha turned away from her then, pulling open a dresser drawer and digging in it. Mya rubbed a hand over her face and looked around. The room she was in was small, dark, with boards haphazardly nailed over the windows and dusty hardwood floors. It was lit now only a few gas lamps, sparsely furnished. Other than the narrow bed she lay in, there was a dresser, a small desk, and a trunk tucked in a corner. Patches on the wall suggested places where pictures had hung at one point, but what happened to them was hard to say. The room smelled dank, old, as if there hadn’t been any life in here for some time.   
  
    Asha turned back to her now, holding out a folded white shift. “Come on then. That dress is too pretty for a place like this.” She made a turning motion with a finger, and Mya obliged, turning her back to Asha and wincing at the pain in her ribs. She felt the mattress sag as Asha sat behind her, pulling the pins from her hair one by one and brushing through it gently. Despite her confusion and underlying fear, Asha’s touch was soothing, and after a minute her fingers moved nimbly down the back of Mya’s dress, deftly lowering the hidden zipper. She pushed the delicate fabric over her shoulders, her fingers trailing lightly. Mya shivered and was reminded unaccountably of Theon’s touch.  _What in_ heaven _is going on here?_ “Take this off, and I’ll keep it nice and clean for you while you’re here. It couldn’t have come cheap.”   
  
    Mya shook her head, taking a sip of water from a glass on the nightstand. It had an acrid, harsh taste, and she grimaced. “What’s going on, Asha, just tell me. Please.”   
  
    Asha took her arm, helping her stand and easing her dress the rest of the way down, followed by her silk stockings and slip. Mya shivered, rubbing her arms, and gratefully took the nightgown Asha offered. “You should sleep now. Tomorrow we’ll talk. I promise. But for now, you need rest.”   
  
    Mya turned towards Asha, the sudden movement leaving her dizzy and gripping the other woman’s arm for balance. “I-...you’re sure?”  _ What’s wrong with me? What’s she done? _   
  
    “Have I ever lied to you?” Asha’s voice was suddenly coming from very far away again, and Mya’s stomach lurched sickeningly. Asha slid an arm close around Mya’s waist. “Come on then, Miss Stone, back to bed.”   
  
    “Bed...” Mya repeated dumbly. Her tongue felt thick and ungainly. Somewhere in the far reaches of her mind it occurred to her that there had been something in the water Asha had given her. “What...what did you...”   
  
    “A favorite mix of my uncle’s. Don’t worry, dove, I didn’t give you near as much as he normally takes. It’s enough to help you sleep and tomorrow, this will all be but a happy memory.” Asha’s fingers brushed against Mya’s tender ribs, and the shorter girl cried out. “It’ll help with the pain, too.” Asha lowered Mya back onto the stiff mattress, brushing her hair back and drawing a slightly scratchy blanket over her. “Sleep now, you understand?”   
  
    Mya blinked once, twice. Asha’s sharp features faded, and blended into the darkness that swallowed her. She couldn’t tell if it was hours, days, or mere minutes that she slept but when she woke up, her head was still actively pounding away.  _ Tell me this was a dream. It had to’ve been. You’re going to open your eyes and you’ll be back in your own bed with your octopus and Ros will be snoring away with two black eyes because she never takes off her kohl before she goes to bed. _   
  
Prying one eye open, Mya’s heart and stomach both plummeted as she realized exactly how far from home she was. The only thing greeting her as she sat up gingerly was the faint sound of wind howling around eaves, and the sight of peeling, dismal wallpaper. She rubbed a hand over her face, wincing as she felt exactly how swollen the left side of her jaw was.  _ At least I’ve still got all my teeth. Small wonders. _ Planting her feet on the cold, splintery floor, she padded over to the door.  _ Asha’s still here, she’s got to be. I don’t care what I have to do but I  will get answers out of her. _   
  
    Assuming she could even get out of the room, of course. The door stubbornly refused to open, no matter how hard Mya tugged on it.  _...of course they’ve locked me in. That’s perfect, Stone, just perfect. _   
  
    She heard footsteps approaching, and perched on the edge of the bed, suddenly petrified with fear. She heard a key rattle in the door lock, and when it creaked open two figures entered; Asha, and a tall, gaunt man with sharp, humorless eyes and equally pointed features. He was dressed plainly, and something about the way he held himself suggested... _ What? Oh...he reminds me of the priests at St. Therese’s back up in Eyrie. Why in the blazes would Asha bring me a priest?   
_   
    “Feeling better this morning?” Asha crossed her arms over her stomach. “You still look a little peaky, doesn’t she Unc?”   
  
    The older man’s keen black eyes glanced over Asha in a way that reeked with disapproval before turning back to Mya. She felt herself shrink away from his gaze as he approached, tipping her chin up with one long, cold finger as he examined the bruise along her face. “She was not supposed to be injured.”   
  
    “I know.” Asha replied. “Qarl and I had a nice long chat about that last night, believe you me. But it’s just her face, anyway, right, Mya?”   
  
    “My ribs.” She responded before she could think. “I think they’re broken. A few, at least.”    
  
    Asha frowned and waved the dark man off, sitting next to her on the bed and lying her back with a finger to the chest. “I’ve felt more than a few broken ribs in my day, kiddo. Just relax now.” Her fingers prodded just under Mya’s breasts and side, and she hissed as they palpitated a particularly tender spot.    
  
    “There...right there.”   
  
    “Ah, good news then. That’s nothing broken. Just a little sore. Bruised maybe, but that’ll happen when...” Asha shook her dark head. “Nevermind. You’ll be feeling better by the end of the day, just you wait.”   
  
    Mya shivered, drawing the coverlet from the bed around her bare shoulders and glancing at Asha’s uncle. “Asha, please. You promised me you’d tell me...”   
  
    Asha and her uncle exchanged a glance, and she shifted on the bed but before she could speak, her uncle started. “We have you here because we have need of you, child.”   
  
    “ _ Need _ of me? Who are you, anyway?”   
  
    “Aeron Greyjoy. I am a priest of the Old Way, a way still adhered to here on Pyke.” His tone was low, monotonous, and it made Mya feel drowsy. “You have little to fear while you’re with us, I assure you.”   
  
    Mya shook her head, growing angry now. “I swear to God if you don’t tell me why I’m here in the next thirty seconds I am walking  _ straight _ out that door and the first phone I see I’ll have half the Kingsport police force crawling up one side of you and down the other!”   
  
Aeron continued as if she hadn’t said a word. “We feel that one of our flock has fallen astray. He can earn his redemption but has proven to be unwilling thus far. My elder brother has...suggested... that we hold something dear to him to show him how serious we are about his future with his family, and his devotion to our faith.”   
  
    Asha sighed, giving her uncle a beleaguered look. “How much do you know about my baby brother, Mya?”

 

_ Theon? _ Mya shrugged. “A fair bit. I mean, we’ve been spending time together for a little over a month now, why? What’s he done?”

  


“Nothing, yet.”

 

Mya shifted on the bed, tucking her legs under her and recalling a conversation with Roslin she’d had some weeks back. “He’s not always on the up and up,” Roslin had said, and Mya had shrugged her warning off. Sure, there were elements of the less-than-savory about Theon, namely his seemingly endless supply of moonshine, but these days who  _ didn’t _ have that? Even though it was technically illegal to sell or even posses liquor, it didn’t stop anyone from enjoying it more openly than they ought. And really, with all the stress he was under Theon was practically entitled to a drink now and then anyway. She nodded resolutely. “He’s a fine man, Asha.”

  
    “Good at his job? Loyal to the Starks?” Here a touch of bitterness entered Asha’s tone, flowing easily in the look she and Aeron cast each other.   
  
    Mya nodded again. “What’re you getting at?”   
  
    Asha smiled tightly, and something flashed briefly in her sharp eyes.  _ Pity? An apology? _ “The Kingsport Police Department is not the only place with Theon’s name on their payroll. He’s been performing certain tasks as we’ve needed him to, and the time has come where we need him for something more serious. The thing about Theon is that he doesn’t always take us as seriously as he should, and to show him we mean business, my uncle Euron, whom you had the...uh...pleasure of meeting last night, told us to take out some collateral on him.”   
  
    Mya felt as though the bed were falling out from underneath her, that the entire earth was in the process of opening up.  _ Tasks...what is she talking about, tasks? And collateral? _ “I’m collateral? Why me?” She swallowed hard, feeling her heart lodge in her throat somewhere. “Does he know I’m here? What do you want him to do? When can I go home again? What about-”   
  
    Asha held up a hand as Mya’s questions came spilling out. “Right now there are two people Theon cares most about. Well, three really. One is Robb Stark who, for obvious reasons, we can’t very well hold here. The second, doll, is you, whether he knows it or not. The third is Theon himself. And if he cares about you half as much as he cares about himself, he’ll do what my uncles want him to. As to your other questions, no. He does not know you’re here yet but I imagine he’ll figure it out soon enough. One hopes so, anyway. We Greyjoys already have a reputation as thugs. I’d hate for us to get one as morons too.” She leaned back rather languidly on the bed, her skirt hitching up a few inches over her knees. “And trust me baby, if I tell you what we need him to do and Euron heard, you’d never leave this room. Not in any state to be seen, at least.”   
  
    Aeron cleared his throat, glaring at Asha reproachfully. “Niece...”   
  
    “Sorry, nuncle.” Asha toyed with a loose thread on the bedspread. “I hate that we had to do it, and that it had to happen like it did, kid, but what can you do?”   
  
    “You can let me go home and forget all this nonsense!” Mya was downright indignant now. What right did Asha and her crackpot uncles have to hold her at some decrepit ruin of a mansion on a God-forsaken rock in the middle of the bay? Did they  _ honestly _ think that Theon would come trotting out to do whatever task they’d cooked up just to get her back? Of course he wouldn’t! Whatever they told him he’d just go straight to Robb and do whatever it was they would do.   
  
    _..._ _ Wouldn’t he? _ Mya chewed the inside of her lip and thought worriedly back to the articles she’d read so long ago about what sort of pies the Greyjoys had their fingers in.  _ He’s not like that though! He’s a copper, he’s honest. He’s sworn to uphold the law, not break it. _ There was a niggling little worry in the back of her mind, though.  _ They’re family. He’s odd about his family. He gets tense as a wire every time one of them is so much as mentioned, never mind when they actually show up somewhere. _   
  
    Asha shook her head ruefully. “I can’t. Once this is all said and done with, you’ll understand why. And,” she continued, peeling herself off the bed, “I wager you’ll be wanting to have a sit-down with my baby brother. Can’t say I blame you; he can be a real pain in the ass even on a good day. Haven’t the slightest how you can stand being around him, but to each her own, yeah?” When Mya didn’t respond, Asha tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll get you some clothes. You’re shorter than me, but I’ve got some things that should do. Are you hungry?”   
  
    “Of course she is.” Aeron snapped just the tiniest bit, opening the door and motioning her out. “She is not a prisoner here, Asha, despite what my brother may have implied. She is a guest and will be treated as such. Now run and fetch her the things she needs. Why you put her in this room is beyond any sensibilities.”   
  
    Asha cast a dark look at Aeron. “He wanted it and even if he hadn’t, she’s safest here.” Turning back to Mya, she tried to smile and nearly succeeded. “I’ll be back in two shakes.” She followed Aeron out, shutting the door quietly behind her and leaving Mya to stew.   
  
    Adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, Mya found she couldn’t sit still. Sliding off the bed, she paced the worn floors, chewing on her lower lip.    _A guest. Sure. You keep your guests locked in some drafty attic while you pull other strings and make innocent men dance for you. Some host_ you _are._ Not really paying attention to where she was going, Mya stubbed her toe on the corner of the desk and swore violently.   
  
    “Motherfu....son of a...Godd-...ow.” She whimpered, rubbing the offending digit and glaring at the desk. “Ugly piece of work, you are.” And it was. The top was covered in little scratches here and there, the wood gnarled and dark. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through the thick coating of dust that had settled on the desk, frowning a bit when she saw a figure she recognized. A rough ‘G’ had been hewn into the corner. She brushed a bit more off and found an equally rough ‘T’ preceding it. The pain in her toe seemed to fade away as she stood there, blinking.  _ Was this....no, it couldn’t be. _   
  
    Mya pulled open one of the drawers and dug in it a bit. There wasn’t much here; a few jacks, a chewed-on pencil, some sea glass. The second drawer had nothing but old, yellowing papers in them, bits of old schoolwork, and as she rifled through them, she saw the one thing they all had in common: the name scrawled across the top in a childish hand.  _ They’ve put me in Theon’s old room. _   
  
    The realization hit her harder than it should have, and she blamed the events of the past twelve or so hours for it.  _He was a boy here._ She shivered, turning with a start as the door opened yet again and Asha re-entered. She took one look at Mya’s face and the schoolwork in her hand and her lips twisted in a grim smile.   
  
    “Trust me, it was far messier when he lived here.”   
  
    “Why?” Mya forced the word out. “There had to have been other rooms.”   
  
    Asha nodded, setting a tray with a bowl on it on top of the dresser. “There are, and you heard what I told my uncle. This is where Euron wanted you, for some reason. I don’t question him and when you see him you shouldn’t either. It’s a bit like teasing a bull you’re not sure will charge. And also, you really are safest up here. You’re as far from Euron as you can be while still being in this old crapshack.” She nodded at the tray. “Soup?” Mya eyed the tray and nearly dove on it. The soup was hot and thick as it ran down her throat, the hunk of bread that went with it surprisingly fresh. The taste of it reminded her of how famished she was, and she sank back on the bed with it while Asha watched. “I brought you some clothes too, some stuff I left here when we...well, it’ll be a bit out of fashion to say the least.” She sighed, looking around the room. “This bothers me, Mya, more than you can guess.”   
  
    Mya snorted around a chunk of potato. “I’m sure it does. I’m sure you raised a boatload of objections when you heard about this.”   
  
    “Objections don’t work with Euron. He doesn’t listen to reason, doesn’t listen to sense, anything or anyone. Whatever Euron wants, Euron gets.” Asha picked at the heel of bread, nibbling slightly.   
  
    Mya was quiet for awhile, sopping up the last of her soup with what remained of her bread. “So if Theon does this thing you all want him to, then what? Are we free to go?”   
  
    “You are.” Asha replied. “Theon’s a Greyjoy. He always has been, and no matter how many years he spends with his arms wrapped around the Starks’ collective necks, trying to be one of them, he never will be. Our blood runs deeper than that.” She looked frankly at Mya, her eyes hard to read in the dim light. “You’d be wise to forget him after this. It’ll be best for the both of you, really.”   
  
    “You can’t know that.” Mya bristled. “And anyway, we’re both adults and there’s nothing you can do to stop us seeing each other if we wanted.” She was sounding childish now, and she knew it.  _ Well so be it then. I’m entitled to act a little childishly. _   
  
    “This isn’t  _ Romeo & Juliet _ , lambchop.” Asha chuckled. “There are very real things at stake here, and lives. Yours, if you’re not careful.”   
  
    “People will realize I’m missing eventually. People other than your brother. I’ve a roommate, and friends, and my professors all know me-”   
  
    “They will know that you’ve gone to visit your mother who’s suddenly taken ill back home, and I’m sure they will all be praying for her full recovery.” Asha held up a hand at Mya’s stunned expression. “Relax. Your mother is fine. Euron doesn’t have any reason to target her. I doubt he even knows about her.”   
  
    Mya was quiet for a long while, her mind turning over and over. “This task you have for him...what if he says no?”   
  
    “You’d better hope he doesn’t.”


	14. Waiting

The mansion on Pyke was quiet, Mya quickly learned. After Asha’s footsteps faded with the remains of her lunch, silence had descended over everything like a smothering cloth until it was deafening. Having grown used to the ambient chatter and background noise of her dormitory and campus beyond that, it bothered Mya more than anything else about her predicament. _Almost anything_.  
  
One day faded quickly while the next dragged, and the one after that. Asha would slink in every so often with meals and try to engage Mya in conversation that the younger girl would, for the most part, stonewall. On the evening of the second day, Asha grabbed Mya’s wrist in a steely grip after she’d finished eating and pulled her up from the bed. “C’mon.”  
  
Mya balked, her heart starting to jackhammer. “Where’re you taking me?” _This is it, whatever he was supposed to do he didn’t and she’s going to kill me now and oh God-_  
  
Asha gave her a smile, a mockery of the shark’s grin her brother had, and eased her grip slightly. “Relax, would ya? I just thought you’d want to get out of there for a bit.”  
  
“But Euron-”  
  
“Euron won’t know nothing from nothing. Besides, he’s not about to begrudge you a bath, I’m sure.”  
  
“A bath.” Mya repeated dubiously.  
  
“You betcha.” Asha looked over her shoulder and winked. “Unless you want to reek of despair and my old clothes when my baby brother comes to get you.”  
  
“He’s coming?” Mya’s heart soared. “Theon’s coming? When?”  
  
Asha shrugged. “No idea. Still waiting to hear from him.” As quickly as it had risen, Mya’s heart fluttered and fell and it showed on her face. “I’ve told you not to worry, doll. He’s going to take care of his business and you two’ll be back to necking in the back of Robb Stark’s Rolls in no time.”  
  
In spite of herself Mya felt her cheeks blaze. “We _never-_!”  
  
“Oh, right. I forgot.” Asha laughed. “You prefer the front.”  
  
As she was led through one winding hall after another, Mya wondered how anyone, much less Euron Greyjoy, could live in such a place. The house was in shambles. Piles of plaster lay sporadically on threadbare, patchy carpet, and dark splotches that were either mold or things Mya didn’t even want to consider marred the strips of wallpaper still clinging to the walls. She heard faint scrabblings in the walls that sent a barely-concealed shudder down her spine. Mice, rats maybe. Mya wasn’t a squeamish girl but the thought of their little claws and beady eyes had long turned her stomach.  
  
The bathroom Asha led her to was little better, but it was at least clean. Asha had already taken the liberty of drawing a bath, the water steaming invitingly. Mya sighed, running a hand through her hair and glancing over at the other woman. “D’you mind?”  
  
Asha perched on a cracked marble counter, crossing one long leg over another and swinging both. “Not at all.” She hitched up the side of her skirt, pulling a flask out from under a garter and unscrewing it. Taking a long swig, she offered it to Mya. “Something to relax you? It seemed to do so well on the boardwalk..”  
  
Mya scowled and turned away. “No, thank you.”  
  
“Then go on. That water’s not getting any warmer. Don’t be shy now, you don’t have any parts I haven’t seen before.”  
  
Still scowling, Mya pulled the borrowed, somewhat ill-fitting dress over her head and slipped into the hot water. She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the soft _tap-tap-tap-_ of one of Asha’s heels against the cabinet she was sitting on.  
  


Asha had mentioned certain tasks without giving any real clue as to what they were, but Mya wasn’t stupid.  _ Theon couldn’t’ve done the things you’re thinking though. He just  couldn’t have. He’s grown up with Robb Stark of all people for God’s sake. You can’t grow up in that household and still go slumming with the mob. _

  
_And what if he is?_ Mya slid deeper into the water. _What if he is walking on both sides of the line? What do you do then? Would you have the heart to turn him in?_ She suddenly felt disgusted with herself. _Listen to yourself, jumping to the worst possible conclusion about him. You know better than that. Asha’s just trying to work you up so you’re off your game. Don’t let her. Don’t let her scare you. Theon’ll come for you and will tell you the truth._  
  
 _God, this is a nightmare._ Mya’s stomach started to twist as she thought of her mother, Roslin, her professors. How long would she be gone before they started to wonder or worry? A week? Two? How long would Euron give Theon to perform whatever task he’d been given? Was him having her even enough motivation for Theon to do it? She didn’t even trust herself to answer that question.  
  
Mya jumped when she felt a hand dip into the water beside her, wringing out a washcloth. “Sit forward. I’ll do your back.” Asha had slid off the counter while Mya’d been lost in her thoughts and was now kneeling next to the tub, her flask neatly concealed again.  
  
Drawing her knees up to her chest, Mya rested her cheek on them. “How can you do this? Just...go along with whatever puppet show your uncle decides he wants to see? Don’t you care what it does to people?”  
  
Asha’s mouth tightened, and she shrugged. “Why care about people who’ve done nothing but shit on me and my family?” When Mya didn’t respond right away, she went on. “I don’t know what it was like growing up wherever you did, but I strongly doubt you went to school every day and heard people whispering, heard the awful rumors they spread about your family. It wasn’t just the kids, either. The adults. The newspapers. The things they said my father and uncles and even my brothers did would make your sweet little toes curl, I’m sure. But y’know what the best part was?” Here Asha’s tone became laced with something Mya could nearly place. It fell somewhere between pride and bitterness. “Most of the rumors were true, but I tried to convince the whole world otherwise right up until the day Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon plugged my brothers and cousin full of lead. After that it was more or less a moot point. My mother used to tell us to never air our dirty laundry...” Asha paused, laughing once under her breath. “Look where that got her. Locked up in the nuthouse and damn near catatonic. Still asks for my older brothers and if you can convince her Theon’s not an infant, I’ll be damn impressed.”  
  


Mya struggled to find words. “So that gives you the right to wreak havoc on other people’s lives? The fact that you had a bad childhood?” She shrugged Asha’s hand off her back, turning to face her. “Lots of people have bad childhoods. Your brother did-”

 

“My brother let himself be taken in as a charity case so Ned Stark could boast how generous and caring he was.”

 

“He was eight! He didn’t  _let_ himself be taken as anything!”

 

Asha made a disgusted noise. “Maybe, but he wasn’t eight when he decided to work for the same police force that destroyed his family, was he? When he threw his hat in with the men who ruined us and started calling Robb Stark his brother?”

 

“Maybe he’s just trying to bring a little honor to his name.” Mya spat out.

 

“ _Honor._ ” Asha laughed again, looking as though the word tasted bad in her mouth. “If it wouldn’t mean my hide I’d slip you out of here and give you back to Theon this minute so you could see just how much  honor my baby brother has.” She climbed to her feet and nodded at several bottles lining the side of the tub. “Go on and make yourself pretty. My uncle’s requested us at dinner tonight. I’ll wait in the hall.”

  
  
\---------   
  


Pyke’s dining room was obviously one that Euron had decided not to let fall into disrepair. The contrast between the wing of the house she’d seen and this elaborately appointed room was jarring. She tried to keep her eyes firmly on Asha’s back as she entered, but it was hard. The wallpaper was silk, it had to be. No other fabric would shimmer quite like that in the light from the gilded chandeliers. Mya could see the jagged outline of Kingsport through one of the massive windows, the buildings dyed red in the setting sun and the waters of the bay frothy with whitecaps. 

  
“It is quite the view, isn’t it.” Euron’s smooth voice rang out behind Mya and she jumped, unaware she had paused by the window. At the far end of the opulent room was an enormous carved behemoth of a table. It looked as though it had been made from one continuous piece of wood, richly grained and nearly black in color. Euron sat lazily at the head, fingers tented under his chin and his smiling blue eye gleaming. He stood gracefully and crossed the room, his footsteps strangely quiet on the inlaid marble floor, and took her hand. With a slight bow, he lifted it to his lips and grazed the back of it. “How are you liking my estate?”  
  
Feeling Asha’s gaze on her, Mya lifted her chin slightly and pulled her hand away from Euron’s cool, dry grip. “I prefer my own bed.”  
  
Euron grinned and Mya wondered fleetingly if all the Greyjoys had that sharp, cutting smile or just some. “You’re more than welcome to share mine.”  
  
Asha cleared her throat and Mya swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Uncle, have you seen your brothers?”  
  
“They’ll be along shortly. I have them seeing to some personal business of mine.” Euron gestured to the table. “Ladies?”  
  
Avoiding Asha’s gaze, Mya steeled herself and squared her shoulders, crossing to the table and taking a seat. Euron resumed his seat at the head of the table and it was only then that Mya noticed the curious set-up in front of him. A finely etched crystal goblet sat before him, filled with a clear green liquid. Laid over the top of it was a curiously flattened spoon, the small bowl of it carved in a delicate filigree. Euron picked up a carafe of ice water and measured out a small amount, placing a sugar cube on the slotted spoon before dripping the water over it at a painfully slow rate. He noticed Mya watching and smiled. “Thirsty, my dear?”  
  
“That would be unwise, brother.” Aeron’s sonorous voice sounded even moreso in the large room, echoing slightly as he and Victarion strode into the room. Both men looked angry and put out, jaws clenched to varying degrees. Mya glanced over at Asha in time to see her give a small smile at Victarion, who didn’t quite return it as he sat across from her. Aeron sat next to him, both men shooting looks at Euron but saying nothing further.  
  
“You tell me what’s unwise, Aeron?” Euron seemed amused, levelling his brilliant blue eye at his younger brother. “I wasn’t aware you knew what from what.”  
Aeron shifted in his chair, his eyes flicking away from Euron uneasily. “I just meant it is ill-advised to give a girl absinthe. Especially with your...particular...way of preparing it.”  
  
Before Euron could respond a door Mya hadn’t noticed swung open and a black-clad servant entered, bearing a large silver tray and keeping their eyes trained on the floor. They placed a plate in front of Mya, and when she murmured her thanks Euron only laughed as he speared a slice of beef. Mya glanced questioningly at Asha, who’d remained strangely quiet.  
  
“They don’t talk.” She said softly, glancing across the table at Victarion who, in turn, was still glowering at Euron. “He doesn’t allow it.”  
  
Euron turned his gaze to Asha and Mya, his smile curling easily. “There’s something to be said for having your orders followed without question, I’ve found.” Mya inhaled, her temper flaring, but before she could respond, she felt Asha pinch her thigh sharply. _Keep your mouth shut,_ the gesture said, _you’re not out of this yet._ Euron continued, shifting his unblinking gaze to Victarion. “Wouldn’t you agree, brother?”  
  
Even across the expanse of the table, Mya could hear the brawnier man’s teeth grinding together. “Have you ever given me an order I haven’t followed, brother?” His voice was nearly gutteral.  
  
“You haven’t. I have to say, you’ve been obedient as a well-trained pup.” Euron lifted his glass again, his grin firmly in place. “Questionable taste in women though. Did I ever tell you, when I had your wife she wept when I was through with her?” Victarion had wrapped his hand around a tumbler of some golden liquor or another, and at Euron’s words it shattered in his grasp. The sight of the amber liquid spreading across the table only made Euron chuckle. It was a sound that, to Mya, belonged only in nightmares.  
  
Euron flicked his eye back over to Asha, who was staring at her lap, and Mya, who was trying to stare at anything but him or Victarion. “Don’t tell me my beloved nephew never told you that story?”  
  
“No.” The word stuck in Mya’s throat, and the second she spoke she regretted it.  
  
Euron took a long sip of his absinthe, surveying his brother evenly. “It was years ago, before the war, and my favorite brother here was in Europe for a few months overseeing some family business. He left his lovely little wife here, however...poor thing got lonely after a few weeks. One night, right around Christmas, I was here on Pyke, perfectly content to mind my own business and she came around, practically begging for me to...shall we say, scratch an itch of hers?” He leaned back in his chair, his eye never leaving Victarion. “God, but she was a nimble little fox in bed. She did this little thing with her...” he chuckled again. “Nevermind which part of her it was. It was my name she was screaming that night, and the one after, and the one after...all the while until my little brother came home. He had the misfortune to walk in on us in a most unorthodox position. Never figured out where she learned to use a candle that way, but who’m I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Anyway, Vicky here was less than impressed and I suppose he would’ve been well within his rights to pound me into a bloody pulp.” Here he leaned forward, piercing Mya with that damnable smiling eye. She fought back the urge to shrink away and stared back, teeth clenched on the inside of her cheek to keep from _..._ _From what? Screaming? Vomiting all over his table?_ “I take it you’re unfamiliar with the tenets of the Old Way. One of them is that the kinslayer is cursed, or, in layman’s terms, a man who would kill his brother is damned for all time, sentenced to the worst and lowest level of our Hells for his betrayal. Vic isn’t a particularly religious man, despite how much Aeron preaches at him, but even he follows that rule. He wanted to kill me when he found us. That much was obvious. Fortunately for me, that was before my older brother Balon drove himself off a bridge, and he reminded Vicky that for every blow he gave me he’d pay for it endlessly in the next life. So you know what he did, my big ol’ brawny baby brother? He took his wife down to one of the coves here, and beat her. Flat out demolished her, really. She was a tiny little thing, maybe five feet on a good day, and if she weighed a hundred pounds I’m a monkey’s uncle.” Euron paused again, taking another sip of his drink and starting to laugh. “So here’s this huge buffalo of a man just beating the ever-loving tar out of this woman who, less than a year before, had pledged her undying love for him in front of God and family alike, and she’s crying and begging him to stop, that she still loves him, that she’ll never do it again, and all the usual bullshit a whore spews out when she’s caught, and the last thing she says before he puts his fist straight through her jaw is that she’s pregnant!” He was nearly in tears from laughing so hard, the sound echoing high and harsh off the walls. “She thought if she told him that I planted a whelp in her that he’d actually stop! She was as stupid as he is, I tell ya. They were perfect for each other.”  
  
Mya’s insides were roiling at this point and it was all she could do to keep from begging him to stop. She glanced across the table at Victarion, but before she could draw a breath to say a word Asha’s hand clamped down on her wrist with a steely force, reminding her again that to speak would be foolish at best.  
  
“Speaking of stupidity...” Euron examined his nails, seemingly bored with the topic of his brother and his wife. “Asha, be sure to slip an extra case or two to my good friend, the one who was kind enough to pull your brother’s attention away from the girl here. I’ll leave his name with Qarl.” He glanced at everyone’s still full plates, vastly amused. “Something wrong with the dinner? I can have a word with my cook...”  
  
Terrified to even consider what he meant by ‘have a word’, Mya spoke quickly and quietly, having gone cold on the inside. “I’ve lost my appetite, I’m afraid.”  
  
Euron frowned. “That’s unfortunate. You have to keep your strength up somehow. Heaven only knows how long it’ll be before I’m through with you here? It’s quite convenient, having my nephew willing to do quite anything just for a few scraps of news on how you’re liking it here. I dare say though, I wonder if he knows how foolish he’d be to say no to us again?” Euron’s tone took on a more musing quality. “I suppose we can always just send him scraps of you instead, should he try that. Which do you think he’d prefer to receive first?” He tented his fingers under his chin, studying her. “I bet he’d recognize one of those lovely peepers of yours, wouldn’t you? All wrapped up in a nice, neat little package? I know someplace you could get the most fashionable eye patch if you like.” Here he tapped his own knowingly. “For a price, of course.”  
  
“Euron.” Aeron finally spoke, the single word hanging heavy in the air. “Enough of this. Did you call Victarion and I here for anything in particular, or are you just enjoying showing off for our guest?”  
  
“Showing off?” Euron sounded wounded, but his smirk never wavered. “I’d never be so bold, brother. It’s just nice to get some of the family together every once in awhile, isn’t it?”  
  
Aeron stood abruptly, barely glancing at the girls and touching Victarion’s massive shoulder. “We have business to attend to, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”  
  
Euron stood, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and tossing them to Aeron. “Take mine, not that old deathtrap Vicky likes to float around the bay. And don’t forget to bring the product around to the cove. I’m quite anxious to see what our boy can do in a pinch.” He nodded to Asha and Mya, lifting his cut crystal glass and taking it with him as he exited the dining room without further word.  
  
Beside her Asha exhaled, slumping in her chair and rubbing a hand across her forehead. Mya stared at her, her stomach still twisting and her heart tripping in her chest. “He...he didn’t mean what he said, right? About my...about sending Theon...”  
  
Asha shrugged wearily. “With Euron, who knows. All the same, you’d best pray my baby brother doesn’t get any delusions of heroic grandeur in that lumpy rock on top of his shoulders.” She stood, tossing back her previously untouched flute of champagne and looking down at Mya. “You remember what I said about forgetting Theon after all this? I wasn’t joking, kid. It doesn’t make a lick of difference how hooked on him you are, or he on you. You don’t want anything to do with this family.”

 


	15. The Ties That Bind

Theon glanced at his wrist watch wearily, passing a dry hand over his face and reaching for the cold mug of coffee on his desk. It was noon, the day after the ball, and the new investigation was a fucking nightmare already. In all honesty, it had been a nightmare right from the start, but as the night had wore on, it had only gotten worse.    
  
He and Robb had went straight to the hospital from the museum, hoping to speak with the patrolman who’d found the body. He’d been gone, but they had stayed long enough to view the body and inspect her personal items, which had been all but worthless. The girl was a nobody, she’d had a nickle in her purse, and no identification whatsoever. Privately, Theon was assuming she was a prostitute, but Robb seemed to think she might be new to town, a small-town girl looking to make it big in the city.   
  
Theon doubted it, though he had to admit it was possible...she had a corn-fed look to her, but her shoes, with their spiked heels, cried out pro. He wiggled the toes on his left foot somewhat painfully at the thought, frowning. _ Speaking of heels...goddamn women. I should give Mya a jingle _ ... He set aside the stale coffee and grabbed the telephone, dialing the familiar extension.   
  
“Run get Mya, if ya would,” he said as soon as the connection was made, not wanting to carry on a conversation with Eloise Hedgen. “It’s-” Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t Eloise who’d answered.   
  
“Oh, _ I _ know who it is, Theon Greyjoy!” Roslin’s voice was as shrill as one of the seabirds down at the boardwalk.  _Fuck me, not today...I can’t handle this today..._ “I can’t  _believe_ you!”   
  
“Ros, sweetheart, please...” But it was in vain to even try to stop her.   
  
“Do  _ not . _ Do  _not_ “sweetheart” me, Theon! I can’t believe you let her dance with your disgusting uncle like that! Sansa told me all about it. And then you practically had her dress off at the table,”  _Oh_ ,  that’s  _rich, considering you and Robb_ ... Roslin was only growing louder and higher-pitched. “And then you put her in a  _cab_ ?!? What is  _ wrong _ with you, Theon Greyjoy?!”   
  
He sighed. “Roslin, I called to apologize to her. But I was doing my job, if you remember. Y’know, the same one Robb had to do? And I don’t know why you didn’t just wait for her...” He was tired of discussing it, it wouldn’t make one lick of difference. “Just put her on the damn phone, will you?”   
  
“Sorry, but I can’t.” Roslin didn’t sound sorry in the least. “She left early this morning for Eyrie. Her mother’s taken sick. And I’m  _sure_ she was quite upset when she left, I’ve never seen her handwriting so messy. Not like her at all.” The self-satisfied tone in Roslin’s voice made Theon want to reach through the telephone line and smack her.   
  
“Terrific. What’s the exchange there, I’ll ring her-”   
  
“Nope, sorry!” She was positively  _cheerful_ now, the bitch. “They haven’t got one. Too far up on the mountain, I guess!” Roslin giggled, and Theon kicked the underside of his desk, clenching his teeth as he remembered his injured toes, too late. “Anyway, tell Robb I said hello, he called me _ hours _ ago, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing from me again. And also-”   
  
Theon slammed the phone back into the cradle of the receiver before he said something that would bring Robb down on his back.  _Gone to Eyrie_ ... It just seemed odd to Theon, though he couldn’t begin to say why. People did get sick from time to time, and he knew that Mya was her mother’s only child, so of course she’d go home if her mother needed her. He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair, thinking of the sanitarium where his own mother resided, trying to remember the last time he’d been to see her.   
  
_Asha probably goes to visit her all the damn time...but then again_ ,  _Ma_ remembers _Asha_ ...  But before he could let himself get bitter, a new thought made him sit up straight in his chair. Roslin had said the handwriting on the letter Mya had left was messy...  _ Not like her at all, she said .  _ Theon felt a cold, niggling suspicion in his gut, call it intuition, call it a detective’s instinct, call it whatever you like, he just knew something was fishy here. Mya hadn’t been mad at him when he’d put her in the cab. Disappointed, yes. Mad? He shook his head, grabbing the jacket of his tuxedo off the back of his chair and dashing out before Robb came back with more coffee.   
  
This was something to do with what Asha had proposed...no, ordered, last night. As soon as he had the thought, he knew he was right. He should’ve known from the way she had kept glancing at Mya, should’ve seen the insinuation there. He started the Rolls and peeled out of the station’s back lot, trying to keep his hands steady on the wheel.  _Damn them all! Do they think they can just go around snatching people up to get me to do what they want?_ Steering with his knees, he plucked a butt from his crumpled pack of Luckies, frowning as he tossed the empty packet out the window and lit up, letting the familiar action and warm smoke soothe him.   
  
There were only two cars in the alley when he reached the club, and Asha’s little convertible  wasn’t one of them, although he recognized the Ford he’d driven with his uncle Vic. That gave him pause. He had zero interest in getting into it with Vic; he’d been hoping to have a civil chat with Asha alone. Pushing open the door to the club, his apprehension only grew at the way the lights were dimmed and the silent hush of the place. It was noon; the club should’ve at least had a few salesmen and shady characters drinking their lunch.   
  
“Asha?” He called out into the darkened room, hating the slight quaver in his voice. No sooner had the word slipped past his lips, than he heard the soft ‘fizzPOP’ of a match being struck, and he saw his uncle’s face wreathed in smoke as he held the match to a cigar and puffed slowly.   
_Shit. This is bad, very fucking bad._ “Where’s Asha? I need a minute with her.”   
  
Vic shook his head slowly, still lighting the cigar. After a moment, he had it, and he pinched the match out with two fingers, and Theon was blind again. The darkness seemed suffocating to him as his uncle spoke. “She’s on Pyke, with your little girlfriend. And my brothers.” The threat there was unmistakable, and not wholly unexpected, but no less painful, for all that. “You get a minute with me, nephew.”   
  
“Now listen, uncle Vic...I can’t-”   
  
Vic cut him off, and he sounded much closer now. Theon edged toward the door as his uncle spoke. “No, you listen, boy. You’ve been doing good things for us, been doing a real good job, but you don’t do this, your gal is gonna be in some serious, and I mean  _serious,_ trouble.”   
  
Theon scoffed, although he could feel his heart trying to box its way out of his ribcage. “You gonna beat her like you did your wife, uncle? Takes a real big man to beat a little woman-” Suddenly, he felt hands grabbing him from behind, his arms effectively pinned to his sides, and Vic was looming over him as some unknown person held him still.   
  
“No,” Vic said, driving a massive fist into his gut and knocking the breath clean out of him. “You get the beating. Your girlfriend...well, Euron’s got something else planned for her.” His uncle sent a flurry of punches to his midsection, talking all the while. “What he’ll do is, and trust me, he will do it, he’ll take her down to the cove on Pyke, you remember where your brothers used to take you and Asha to swim?” He stopped the assault a moment, and Theon realized he was supposed to answer.    
  
“I remember.”    
  
Did he ever. The cove had a steep dropoff only yards out...something his brothers had neglected to tell him when they took him there for the first time, to teach him to swim. He’d almost drowned...he would have, if it hadn’t been for Asha hauling him out by the hair, laughing at him right alongside Rodrik and Maron as she did so. But Mya was grown, she could swim...what was Vic getting at?   
  
The beating, and the explanation, resumed. “The tide comes in high there and it’s secluded, not visible from the city. It’s where we get shipments in. But that doesn’t matter.” Vic landed a particularly vicious blow, and Theon felt a rib give way, but he didn’t cry out. “What Euron’ll do is this: he’ll take some stakes, probably from an old croquet set, and some rope. And he’ll wait ‘til the tide goes  out.  And then he’ll tie the rope to...what’ser’name? Mia?”   
  
“M-mya,” Theon choked out, tasting blood on his lips.   
  
“Right. Mya. He’ll tie the rope to Mya’s wrists and ankles, and stake her down on the beach. She’ll be fine, at first. Low tide, y’see. She’ll have a nice, long time to think about how you let her down, waiting for high tide t’ come in. And when it does come...well, you know how long it takes for the tide to turn.” When he stopped talking, his fists stopped as well, and Theon slumped against the man behind him, just hoping to pass out at this point. “Hold ‘im up, Qarl.”   
  
He felt the man,  _Qarl, that bastard_ , boost him up and pull his head back by the hair. Theon was in so much pain, he could barely think, but his uncle had made things exceedingly clear for him. There was no way he could let anything happen to Mya.  _ You mean anything more than what already has? They’ve probably beaten her black and blue... You never should’ve let them get close to her _ . Vic was leaning down to peer into his face, checking to make sure he was still conscious, probably.   
  
“I’ll do it,” he managed to say. “But if you’ve hurt her, I swear...” His words devolved into a painful cough.   
  
“She won’t be harmed, you have my word,” Vic said, but Theon could see that he was uneasy.   
  
“She’s already been harmed, hasn’t she?”   
  
“The order was to take her safely,” Vic hesitated, his eyes flicking upwards and over Theon’s shoulder before he went on. “Qarl used maybe a little more force than was necessary...but he’s paid for it. Double what he gave her, he got. Let ‘im see, Qarl.”   
  
Theon was released, and pitched forward against his uncle. Vic hoisted him up, and turned him around to face the big blonde man. His stomach sank at the ugly mass of bruises all over Qarl’s smooth-shaven face.  _This is double? I should fuckin’ kill him..._   
  
“If her face looks half as bad as that, I swear to God...” Theon spit a gob of blood on the floor, unable to finish the sentence.   
  
His uncle just let go of him, laughing shortly as he fell to his knees. “Swear to God what? You ain’t gonna do shit, you and I both know it. She’s a little banged up, but she’ll heal fine. Now, we don’t know when Tyrell will come to you, but when he does, it’ll be in dead secrecy.” Vic crouched in front of Theon, puffing on his cigar again now that the beating was done. “If I were you, I’d arrange to meet him down by the docks. If you can get word to one of us in time, we can help you with the body from there. Otherwise...just don’t get caught.”   
  
\--------------   
  
Three days later, Theon’s body was still solid bruise from collarbone to hipbone, and it was all he could do to get dressed in the morning. But even worse was getting  _undressed_ in the evenings, he soon came to realize. The pants were fairly easy, the jacket and shirt worse, and stripping off his undershirt was close to torture. He knew there were broken ribs grinding together under the purple skin and aching muscles, he could feel them every time he moved.   
  
He had his shirt half-way off, obscuring his face, when he heard the door to his guest house, the Starks concession to his age and not-quite-family status, banged open. Robb came barging in as he always did, not bothering to call out. This habit of his had led to some...interesting encounters. Theon remembered the time he’d had Kyra, the kitchen maid, bent over the sofa, and Robb had come storming in... He smiled fondly, but Robb’s sharp gasp brought his mind back to the present quickly.   
  
“Theon, what the...” His friend crossed the small living room, and stood beside him, the two of them staring at his ravaged torso in the mirror. “Who did this to you?” Robb poked, not very gently, at a spot where two massive bruises ran together just above the waistband of Theon’s pants. The resulting pain, white-hot, was enough to make his eyes water.   
  
“For cryin’ out loud, don’t _ do _ that!” He smacked Robb’s hand away, inexplicably annoyed. They spent all their time together, how could he not have noticed Theon wasn’t moving normally in the past three days? “What do you want, Stark?”   
  
Robb started, looking at him with an almost hurt expression that, once, not so long ago, would’ve been a little pinprick into Theon’s conscience. But he’d grown accustomed to disappointing people, the Starks and his family alike. He’d always thought as long as he could stay true to Robb, if nobody else, he’d be alright. But that had ceased to be an option, and now he just hoped he could keep it together long enough to save Mya and keep Robb from learning the truth.   
  
“Just wanted to see if you wanted to come out with me and Roslin...” Robb shook his head. “But I don’t care about that now. Tell me what happened.” He turned Theon, with a much gentler hand this time, to face him, examining the bruises with a frown.   
  
“Ah, it was...” He had been about to say ‘nothing’, but it was quite clearly not nothing. What to say? What would Robb believe, and also not push him on? He lit on an answer that he hoped would fit the bill. “Bit of a scrap at Asha’s, had to get in the middle of it,” he said, looking Robb directly in the eyes, daring him to ask further questions.   
  
“Asha’s.” It was a statement, not a question. Robb had never asked where Theon got his ‘shine, but everyone in town knew she ran that club, and it was one of the few that had never been busted. Robb _ had _ to have known that’s where Theon’s supply came from...   
  
“Robb,” Theon began, but his friend stopped him.   
  
“You need to be more careful, Theon. That’s all I’ll say.” The tentative smile Robb gave him just about crushed Theon’s will to continue lying. “Now, are you up for going out, or-” The harsh ring of the telephone in the small kitchenette cut him off.   
  
Theon shook his head as he went to answer it. “No, you go on. Ros’s still peeved at me about Mya,” he said, and it was all he could do to keep his tone light.  _As well she should be.._ .   
  
The phone kept ringing and ringing, but Theon pointedly waited until Robb had shown himself out before answering. Very few people had this specific number, and even fewer used it. In fact, Theon thought with a weary smile, the younger Stark children used it, mostly to call him up for dinner or looking for Robb. This would not be one of those calls, he knew. A scrawny little boy had slipped a note to him when he’d been out for lunch today, warning him that he’d be getting a call tonight. He’d already rang Asha at the club and let her know a boat should be waiting for him at the docks after dark.   
  
To his immense surprise, Mace Tyrell, the man himself, actually called. He was good-natured, but to the point. “Theon Greyjoy?” He went on when Theon confirmed it was him. “Good, good. Mace Tyrell here. Got a little story I’m working on, I’d like to get some thoughts from you on it.”   
  
Theon smirked, but he kept it from his voice, merely saying, “Oh? I’m a bit busy at the moment, running two cases, y’know. Which case is it you have a question on?”  _Don’t play coy with me, Tyrell._   
  
“What? Oh, no...it’s not on any of your cases.” Tyrell laughed, a genial sound, but Theon imagined he heard sinister undertones there. “No, no, I think it’s something best discussed in person. Where can we meet?”   
  
Theon’s smirk grew, widening into a grim smile. The man had just signed his own death warrant. “The docks. Slip 12A,” he said, naming the spot where the Starks moored their small sailboat. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” He planned on being there in ten, but he wanted to be sure he arrived before Tyrell.   
  
The drive to the docks was short and familiar, and soon enough he was sitting on the bow of  _ Grey Wind , _ the sailboat that had been a Christmas present to all the Stark children...and Theon, too. He ran a hand along the smooth teak of the boat, remembering how they’d all been sitting around the tree that year, his first with the family. There hadn’t been many presents at all...nothing new to Theon, and Robb, Jon and even Sansa had hid their disappointment well, but little Arya and Bran had both cried when they saw there were no more presents.   
  
Then Ned and Catelyn Stark had left the room, and when they came back they were holding something that the Stark children didn’t recognize, but oh, Theon did! Life jackets! He hadn’t used one since he was younger than Arya, but the Greyjoys were a different sort of family than the Starks, a fact he never could quite get used to. In the Greyjoy household, you sailed and swam as soon as you could walk, or near enough, and lifejackets were for babies.    
  
_ Grey Wind _ had become a special place for all the Stark children, and it’d helped fit Theon into the fabric of the family. He’d shown them how to sail her, helped teach the younger ones to swim, and for the first time ever, he wasn’t the baby, the tag-along. He was useful, needed...   
  
Theon shook his head impatiently as headlights cut through the fog and came to a stop in front of the “No. 12” sign. He leapt lightly off  _Grey Wind_ and back onto the dock, the scent of the bay at night as familiar to him as his own name, the small waves lapping against the hulls around him settling his nerves. Vic and Aeron were anchored not far away. As soon as he gave the signal, they’d swing around and pick him up, with the body. Nothing could go wrong.   
  
And then something went wrong. He really should’ve expected it, but he hadn’t, and it was a crushing blow. Mace Tyrell was there...with a driver. Of course. A man as filthy rich as the newspaper magnate of the Tri-State area didn’t drive himself. This complicated things...obviously the driver wouldn’t be present for the “interview”, so he couldn’t take them both out at once. He had to get Tyrell alone, do the deed, then come back for the driver...without raising his suspicions.    
  
An idea formed, bubbled up through the frantic tangle of thoughts...  _Mya Mya Mya whatever it takes_ ,  _get her away from them_ ,  and slowly broke the surface of his consciousness. He was speaking before he knew what he was even saying, waving a hand at the large man looking around suspiciously at the head of dock 12.   
  
“Tyrell, here. C’mon down here, it’s more private.” He turned and headed back to the  Grey Wind , forcing himself not to look back. After a moment, he felt footsteps following him, and he ducked into the small hold of the Stark boat, waiting.   
  
“Detective Greyjoy?” Tyrell was close, just outside, and Theon flexed his hands in anticipation. He couldn’t use his gun, or the driver would hear it. This would be up close and personal, he thought, his mouth quirking slightly downward in disgust. He had never been one for up close and personal...not in fucking, not in fighting, and most definitely not in killing.    
  
_Whatever it takes_ , he told himself as Mace Tyrell stooped to enter the hold, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Theon didn’t hesitate, but brought the butt end of his gun down on the larger man’s temple viciously. He went down like a sack of potatoes, the boat rocking against its moorings as he slumped to the floor. Theon bent down and checked for a pulse, finding one weak and thready, but still there.  _ Whatever it takes , whatever it takes... _   
  
The phrase was pounding in his head, a steady syncopation, as he quickly and efficiently snapped Tyrell’s neck, flesh and muscle and bone giving way surprisingly easily. The muffled pop of his spine seemed louder than a gunshot to Theon, but he made himself sit and watch as the life faded from Mace Tyrell’s eyes. It didn’t take long, and then it was time to deal with the driver.   
  
In the end, it was easy as pie. A shout to the driver, who came running, and one shot to the back of his head as he knelt over Mace Tyrell’s lifeless body. Theon didn’t even have a drop of blood on him when his uncle Vic drifted in, behind the wheel of his brother’s sleek mahogany speedboat, the  _Silence_ , frowning when he saw the two bodies piled at the edge of slip A.   
  
  
“Who’s the other one?” he said gruffly, not getting up as his brother Aeron rose and climbed onto the end of the dock. “What the hell am I supposed to do with  _two_ dead bodies?”   
  
Theon snorted, grabbing the driver’s legs at a gesture from Aeron, who took the arms. “Like I care. The same thing you do with one dead body, I’d say. You got some sorta corpse limit, or something?” He and Aeron swung the driver’s limp corpse into the boat, somehow managing to get it head down in the passenger seat. Vic’s scowl was fierce.   
  
“Goddamnit, he’s leaking all over the place. Euron’s not going to be happy...” Vic whipped his suit jacket off and stuffed it beneath the man’s head. “I swear, leather fucking seats, on a boat?” He was muttering to himself now, and Theon ignored him as he strained to lift Mace Tyrell. The man was damnably heavy, but Aeron had a greater strength to him than was visible on first glance, and between the two of them, they eventually got him into the boat atop his driver.   
  
“Alright...” Theon glanced at his uncle Aeron. “Where’re you gonna sit, Unc? And when can I get Mya? I could bring  _Grey Wind_ out tonight...” He moved to untie the sailboat from its moorings, but Aeron held a hand out to stop him.   
  
“Not tonight. Euron wants to see the body, and have it disposed of, first. Your sister will contact you with further directions. And I will be taking Tyrell’s car to be disposed of. Your sister’s little...pet knows a good place, far out of town.” Aeron nodded to his brother, still at the wheel of the boat, and abruptly turned away, headed up the dock.   
  
_Fuck me, the car...I didn’t think about the car at_ all .  “Uncle Vic...” Theon hesitated, unsure of what to say. “Mya...she’s alright? He hasn’t...?” He trailed off as a dark look came over his uncle’s face. The animosity between the brothers, and the reason for it, was well-known in the family, but Theon had forgotten in his concern for Mya.   
  
“Hasn’t touched her. So, there’s that. Although...” he hesitated. “We all sat down together for dinner earlier, and my brother had a grand old time scaring the wits out of your little gal. Threatened to take one of her eyes out and send it to you if you don’t follow orders.”   
  
“I’ve done everything the family has needed done, and will continue to,” Theon said, careful to keep his voice level. “Uncle, don’t let him...” He trailed off...what would Vic do, what  _could_ he do? No, Mya would get no help from this quarter.   
  
Vic just looked at him with an inscrutable expression. “Your sister’s been keeping a real close eye on her,” he said, voice softening imperceptibly at the mention of Asha. “She’s even been staying nights...pissed Qarl off but good. Not that Asha gives a flying fuck. Now, she’ll give you a ring when it’s time. Probably tomorrow night. Don’t make plans. And Theon?”   
  
“What, Unc?”   
  
“You’re in deep waters now. Far too deep to go back ashore. But you did good, and we won’t forget it.”   
  
Theon smiled at him, a Greyjoy smile, sharp and full of things unspoken. “So glad to know I’m finally sticking in the family’s collective memory. It only took 15 years and murder in the first. Good night, uncle. Tell Mya I’m coming for her soon.”


	16. Out of the Fire...

_Two days, two fucking days..._ Theon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the Rolls impatiently, mimicking the pounding of the rain, waiting for Robb to go into the damn house already. He’d told Robb, who was sure to tell Roslin, that he was going to pick Mya up at the train station and that he wanted some _alone_ time with her.   
  
His friend had grinned at him and turned up the collar of his trench coat. “You got it, pal. But, uh...” He’d chuckled, a nervous tic, and nodded at the glove compartment. “You may want to restock...”.   
  
Despite his mind being elsewhere, Theon had to laugh at that. “You go through the damn things like dirty socks, but you can’t just say ‘rubbers’?” Robb had blushed and slugged him in the shoulder, and Theon rubbed it absentmindedly as he watched the great double doors of Riverrun close, shutting out the rain and wind.  
  
But his smile died as he drove across town, thinking about what lay ahead. A dangerous trip by boat, in the dead of night, in a storm...and that was the part he was looking forward to. Because when the boat ride was over, he’d have to face his uncle. Theon had hoped that they’d just bring her back to town, maybe to Asha’s club or something, and he could pick her up. But that’d been wishful thinking. Of course...Euron _would_ want him to come out to Pyke; Theon half suspected he’d waited until a stormy day to give him the OK to come.  
  
 _It doesn’t matter_ , he told himself, _you do what you’ve got to do. Mya’s got nothing to do with this, it’s all your fault, what’s happened to her._ A strange feeling, caring about someone...he hadn’t felt anything of the sort for anyone besides Robb in years. If he were honest with himself, not that Theon ever was, it was a twisted sort of feeling, a possessive ache in his gut. _You’d better get over it, because she won’t want anything to do with a dirty cop...you’re only one step up from a lowlife thug like Qarl..._  
  
He pulled up at the docks, bypassing Pier 12 with hardly a glance. He and Robb had caught the Mace Tyrell case, their third open case now, and he’d never been more grateful to get a file in his life. It’d been stupidly easy to suggest to Robb that they start by sweeping the man’s office personally and then confiscating anything with the name Greyjoy on it. He’d taken it all home, to his snug little guesthouse on the edges of the Stark family’s world, and pored over document after document. It was damning all right, for all of them, not least him.  
  
He parked the Rolls where his sister had told him to, behind a low outbuilding, and dashed across the muddy field to the pier where her boat was tied up, rocking wildly against its moorings. The _Black Wind_ was a fine boat...it had nothing on his uncles’ _Silence_ or _Iron Victory_ , but a far finer boat than most. She sat low in the water, the dark wood of the hull black on black water, her engine purring like a dream when he flicked the ignition. If the circumstances were different, Theon would’ve been in seventh heaven.  
  
As it was, the storm made the trip out into the bay nightmarish beyond belief. The bay’s waters were tricky in the best of conditions, and the breakers roiled up by the storm made handling the sleek speedboat a test of nerves, and of his stomach. Theon hadn’t made the trip to Pyke in _years_ , hadn’t taken a ship into the cove since before he’d been taken away, and the approach was riddled with submerged rocks and tricky currents.   
  
_You’re a Greyjoy, you were born to this..._ he told himself as he neared the mouth of the cove, the black water whipped into a frothy foam where slick rocks, green with moss, broke the surface. Any one of them would punch a hole in the hull of his sister’s boat quick as spit, although at that point, Theon mused, he’d rather drown anyway, than face Asha’s wrath. He could see torches flickering on the beach, something to aim for, and when a jagged spear of lightning went streaking across the sky, he found a path through the rocks. When the next bolt of lightning flashed, striking one of the stunted trees on Pyke, he gunned the engine and followed the course he’d seen.   
  
It was hair-raising, but he made it through, easing the boat into shallower waters and up to the dock, new since he’d been there last. Mya was on the beach, shivering even though she was bundled in a thick woolen blanket, standing next to Asha, Victarion and Aeron. Theon wanted nothing more than to jump onto the dock and go to her, but he restrained himself, docking properly and tying the _Black Wind_ up securely...it was their only way back out. Before he could climb from the boat, however, a figure detached itself from the shadows at the end of the dock and approached.  
  
 _Euron_. He knew before he could even see his uncle’s face, but when he did come in to view, drenched to the bone, he was wearing a menacing smile. Theon smiled back, teeth bared. “Have I proven myself to you yet, uncle?” He saw Asha bringing Mya forward from the corner of his eye, distracting him from his uncle. She looked weary and bedraggled, with a massive bruise fading on the left side of her face, more green than purple. Theon told himself he’d make Qarl pay for that bruise, and then some. Theon blinked; Euron was speaking to him, but he hadn’t been paying attention.  
  
“You’re getting there, dear nephew. I must say, I was impressed that you did it with your bare hands, and yet managed not to make a complete mess of it.” He raised his voice slightly as Asha and Mya approached, sneering. “Something my brother never has seemed to get the knack of. Now, forgive me if I seem crude, but you really should get Miss Stone home and out of those wet clothes.” He leaned forward, a drop of rain slipping off the steep angle of his nose. “She’s quite ripe, you know. I’d’ve had her myself, but virgins are messy...I’ll leave that to you, nephew.”  
  
Before Theon had the presence of mind to do something rash, his uncle was gone, sauntering down the dock, and Asha was bundling Mya into the boat, yelling something at him as she untied her boat and pushed it away from the dock. Mya clung to him with a strength he hadn’t known she had, practically sitting in his lap as he swung the boat around to face the treacherous mouth of the cove a second time. He needed both hands to steer, but Theon couldn’t bring himself to take his arm away from her.  
  
He eyed the narrow stretch of treacherous water, waiting for a flash of lightning to illuminate his path. “Theon, please...” Mya was mumbling against his neck, her lips cold from the rain. “Just want to go home...”  
  
“On our way now, doll.” Planting a light kiss on her wet hair, he shifted her in his lap and managed to get both hands on the wheel. Lightning split the sky again, and he saw his course for half a second. It would be enough, it had to be. There was nothing else for it, so he pushed the throttle forward and hoped for the best.  
  
It got hairy for a second there, when a huge rock he hadn’t seen, nor planned for, loomed large in front of them. Yanking the wheel hard to the left, he laid off the throttle suddenly, and the boat swung around the jagged edge of the rock, missing it by mere inches. If Asha was still watching from the cove, she was likely having kittens at the way he was handling the boat, but the waters were just far too rough for anything approaching safe boating.  
  
Finally they made it out of the cove, the crossing of the bay seeming like a Sunday drive relatively speaking, and Theon felt in control enough to take a hand off the wheel and pry Mya’s face away from where it was buried in his neck. “The worst of it’s over now, Mya. Give us a kiss, hmm?”  
  
She kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss, but only the once, settling back against his chest with a sigh. “I can’t go back to the dorm like this...”   
  
Theon assumed that meant she was coming to his place...but then that had been his plan the entire time. The thought of getting her back, only to leave her alone and vulnerable again so soon, was ludicrous in the extreme. Although he had enough self-awareness to acknowledge it wasn’t just for her protection that he wanted to keep her close.  
  
Before he could examine that possibly disturbing thought any further, the docks came into view as the driving rain lessened briefly. Theon kissed Mya’s temple and shifted her to the seat beside him, needing both hands and all his attention to guide the boat into its slip. The impatient huff he got in reply was a welcome sound, a sign that the Mya he’d known before was there beneath the frightened girl.  
  
When he’d finally maneuvered the Black Wind into its berth, wincing as a wave took the boat into the side of the dock. Asha would have his head on a platter if any harm came to her pride and joy. He hopped out lightly, running a hand along the side of the hull...it looked fine, but it was awfully hard to see.   
  
“Are you going to help me out, or what?” Mya said, trying to stand and steady herself.  
  
“Sorry, sorry...” He took her hand, pulling her out of the boat and onto the dock, smiling faintly. “It’s just...my family and their boats. Asha loves this thing more than life itself.”  
  
Mya just sighed, pulling her hand away from his gently. “Just take me home, Theon. I’ve had about all I can stomach of your family.”  
  
The car ride back to his place was silent, and for his part, painful. Theon wanted to touch her, had grown accustomed to the feel of her warm cheek resting on his chest, the press of her thigh against his on the bench seat of the Rolls, the way she melted into the slightest touch or kiss. But she rebuffed his every advance...no, not even rebuffed, just acted as if she didn’t even notice. _And maybe she doesn’t,_ he mused, _maybe she’s in shock._ But that was pure hooey, and he knew it. She was downright avoiding his touch, pressed as far against the passenger door as she could possibly get, still wrapped in that soaked woolen blanket.  
  
“Mya, dove,” he held out a hand, glancing away from the road to look at her, “Please. Come here.”  
  
She stared at him blankly for a moment, then shook her head. “I can’t. Just...give me a minute. Please, Theon.”  
  
“Sure. Of course,” he tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, but he wasn’t sure if she was even listening anyway. “As long as you need.”  
  
\-----  
  
Theon paced the length of his small sitting room impatiently; Mya was taking her sweet time changing, and it was like to drive him nuts. He was looking out the rain-lashed window, watching the lights go out in Riverrun on the hill, when he heard the familiar squeak of his bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face her, this girl he’d almost gotten killed. She was tugging at one strap of her borrowed dress, brow furrowed, and _oh God_ , did he want to kiss her.  
  
“Not to be rude, because I appreciate the effort, but,” She glanced up at him with the ghost of a smile, so faint it damn near broke his heart. “It’s a teensy bit small. And also a sundress...”  
  
“Well, it’s one of Sansa’s dresses from last summer. I always did love that dress...” He coughed. “Don’t even ask me how I snuck it out of...y’know what, never mind. It was all I could get my hands on.” Mya raised one eyebrow, and her lips curved slightly higher. His own smile came easier than hers seemed to. “It looks good on you, though.”   
  
She just shrugged, the smile fading back to the faint shadow it’d been before, and crossed to the leather sofa, wrapping herself in the blanket thrown over the back. He sighed, pulling one of his two kitchen chairs over and spinning it around to straddle it, arms crossed over the back. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Theon pulled a fresh pack of Luckies from his shirt pocket, just to keep his hands busy. He slid one out, offering it to Mya, and tucking it between his own lips when she shook her head wordlessly.  
  
She waited ‘til he’d struck a match and taken that first long drag before she spoke, a fact he was almost ridiculously grateful for.  
  
“Tell me,” was all she said.  
  
“Mya-”  
  
“Tell me everything. And don’t you dare leave out one thing,” her voice was quiet, but firm.   
  
Theon thought a moment, unsure of where to begin. Once he’d told her, that was it... C _an you really do that to her? But doesn’t she deserve to know, after everything?_  
  
“You know what my family is-” he began, and she cut him off again.  
  
“I do. They’re almost refreshingly honest about it. I want to know what you are, Theon Greyjoy.”  
  
He couldn’t help but smile, although he could feel the bitterness spiking through him. “Me, dove? Haven’t you heard? I’m just another one of my family’s tools.”  
  
Mya sighed. “Just tell me, Theon. Please. Asha said you “do tasks” for them, and I want to know what she meant.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And I want to know what you had to do to get me off that godforsaken island.”  
  
“We’ll work up to that,” he replied, taking another long drag on his ciggy, letting the warm smoke soothe his frayed nerves. “It started simply enough. ‘Look the other way, Theon,’ is what Asha said to me, when I got a hint from a snitch that she was running booze. I should’ve known my family would be...I knew what they, we, were even when I was a kid.” Theon shrugged, suddenly a bit defensive. “Besides, I gotta say, that’s not exactly uncommon. Coppers looking the other way. Even Robb knows about Asha...”  
  
Mya smiled faintly. “I think just about everyone looks the other way, don’t they? But that’s not...tasks.”  
  
“No, of course not,” he shook his head wearily. “That’s just where it started. But after a while, she’d start asking me to drop a gallon off at a Harlaw cousin’s place, that’s on our mother’s side, or a case off at this joint across town. No big thing, right?” Mya gave a weak smile and a nod, and he went on, deliberately blunt. “Last week, I made deliveries of illicit alcohol to 23 illegal bars and private buyers. And that was a slow week. Typically, it’s more like 30-40.”  
  
Her eyes widened slightly, but she tried to make the best of it. “Well, that’s not good, but...I guess it’s really not _that_ big...I mean, I was expecting...I don’t know.”  
  
Theon smiled at her flustered line of thought. “Oh, I’m not done. For each delivery, I get a cut. 10%. Each place I deliver to also pays me, separate from the payment to the family for the booze. Protection money.”  
  
“P-protection? From?” He had to give her credit, she was handling this well.  
  
“From the police. I do my best to keep them out of sight of the Feds too, but they know there are no guarantees on that front.” He smiled sharply, knowing he was about to get into things that were...less forgivable. “But that’s not all. I’ve done bad things, Mya. Sure you want to know?”  
  
She just nodded mutely, so he went on, holding nothing back. “I’ve tampered with evidence...I can’t even tell you how many times now. Tampered with it, planted it, sometimes just straight up threw it away. Lied under oath...that doesn’t happen _too_ often, mainly because the DA doesn’t like me testifying,” He smiled bitterly. “Since I’m a Greyjoy, y’see. Our reputation precedes us, and rightly so. Speaking of testifying, I’ve intimidated witnesses, convinced them it wouldn’t be in their best interest to take the stand.”   
  
It almost felt good, cathartic, even, to finally tell someone all of this, or it would have, if he hadn’t been growing surer and surer that Mya was going to stand up in the middle and just walk away. Theon was watching her as he spoke, and while she hadn’t moved a muscle, it seemed as if she were slipping further and further away with each new misdeed he named. But he couldn’t help himself now, the words were just spilling out, he couldn’t’ve stopped them if he’d wanted to.  
  
“And when I say intimidated, I mean verbally, physically, whatever it took. And then it wasn’t just witnesses, it was anyone who came down on the wrong side of the family. I’ve arrested so many people on trumped up charges, you wouldn’t even believe it, dove.” His sharp grey eyes missed nothing, and so he saw her blink at the pet name, the tiniest of flinches pass through her body. “But my final test of faith, or whatever the fuck they want to call it, well, that’s been more recent...”   
  
The words seemed stuck in his throat now, where just a moment ago it had been the opposite. She seemed to sense it, whispering, “Tell me.”  
  
“I’ve killed for them. Three times now...well, four. Four men I’ve killed, on my family’s say-so. You wanted to know what I had to do to get you off Pyke?” The smoke from his cigarette couldn’t hide the faint taste of bile in his throat. “I killed one of the richest men in Kingsport. And his driver...that wasn’t part of the plan, though. He was planning an exposè on the family, and Euron wanted him gone. Why it had to be me, I don’t know.” Theon let his head drop to rest on his forearms.   
  
He heard her choke back what could’ve been a retch, or a sob, or just a hard cough, but her voice was under control when she spoke. “Tell me who, Theon.  
  
 _What’s the point of holding anything back now?_ “Mace Tyrell. I doubt you know-”  
  
“I know who Mace Tyrell is. I’m a journalism student for God’s sake...” She sounded incredulous and, yes, even a bit angry.  
  
“Was,” Theon corrected bluntly. “Who he _was_. He’s nothing but fish food now.” He heard her draw a breath, but he went on before she could interrupt. “And if he wasn’t, you would be.”  
  
Raising his head to look her in the eyes, Theon felt oddly empty, a hollowed-out shell. Mya’s expression wasn’t hard to read; from what he could see, disgust was there, and hurt, and fear, too. It was only what he’d expected, but knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier. The worst, though, was the pity. It was only the briefest flicker, a momentary flash of her eyes, but it was the one thing he’d never wanted to see.   
  
The blanket slipped from her shoulders, and Theon numbly realized she was holding a hand out to him. He stared at it blankly. He was half-afraid to take it...afraid he’d fall apart at the slightest touch, like so much dust. Either that, or he’d never want to let it go, would never be able to get enough. Each prospective path seemed equally as terrifying, but he had to do something.  
  
“So that’s it,” he said, “That’s everything. You know...everything, Mya.”


	17. ...and Into the Frying Pan

When Theon looked up at her, Mya was struck at the hollowness in his eyes, the sorrow.  _He thinks I’m already gone._ He looked like a man facing a firing squad and facing it alone.

  
“So that’s it.” He said, his hands hanging limply. “That’s everything. You know...everything, Mya.” When she still didn’t respond, he nodded and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “I’ll take you home, and...I’ll just take you home.” Theon stood, every inch of him wrung, beaten, weary with defeat as he tossed his spent cigarette butt into his cold fireplace. He stared at her outstretched hand and made a move to take it, but hesitated, unsure. She didn’t blame him. She hadn’t wanted him to touch her, didn’t _want_ him to touch her but at the same time it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms.  
  
Mya drew a steadying breath, dropping the blanket around her shoulders onto the couch, not even feeling the cold anymore. She didn’t feel anything. She should leave; that was the only course of action that made sense. It was the wisest, not to mention safest, thing to do. She felt physically ill; it actually started to hurt as he’d continued on, rattling off this list of deeds he’d done, and just when she’d thought he’d reached the absolute lowest, Theon would spit out some other sin he’d committed that plunged him further and further into this sticky quagmire. What could she say to all this? _Oh, it’s ok, it’s just a few bodies and a few bottles of liquor and a few dollars passed under the table._ No. Absolutely not. _Just do it. Get up, let him take you home, and never think of him again. The things he’s done...they’re unforgivable. He’s lied, stolen, he’s_ killed _people. He_ killed _Mace Tyrell. No matter how much you care about him he’s beyond your saving. Cut him loose._  
  


The thought of not seeing him again, though, not seeing his crooked smile, not seeing the nervous, nearly instinctive way he’d pluck one of his Luckies out of the pack, not feeling his touch, those and a thousand other small things she’d grown to love... they all caused her stomach to twist painfully.  _ You’re all he has now. Robb may be as good as his brother but even he doesn’t know the full story. He’d lock him up or worse yet, try to hide what he knew and it’d be the death of him. If you leave him now you may as well put a bullet in his head on your way out for all the good it’d do him. He may’ve killed Mace Tyrell but he did it for  you , to keep you safe. You’re in this now, for better or for worse. _

Mya wasn’t sure if she could trust herself to speak, but tried anyway. What do I say? What can I say? “Theon, I-”

  
Theon shook his head, water droplets flying from his hair. “Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. I know how badly I fucked up. I don’t need you to tell me.”   
  
_ Leave. Remember what Asha said. Leave this, leave him, forget the entire thing ever happened, forget the look on his face and forget how much it’ll hurt tomorrow and the day after, and the day after- _   
  


Against every ounce of sense in her, Mya stepped forward, cupped Theon’s face, and kissed him soundly. He tensed up against her and went to pull away, but she curled her fingers in his hair and held him close. After a moment, his lips moved tentatively against hers, parting as his tongue traced over her lower lip. His hands circled her waist and pulled her closer, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

  
Mya’s heart began to race and suddenly she couldn’t have Theon close enough to her. She pressed herself against him, her tongue tangling with his, his taste flooding her mouth. He kept one hand at the small of her back, bunched in the fabric of her dress while the other tunneled  through her wet hair, tilting her head as he wanted it.    
  
Suddenly he pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. “What’re you doing, Mya?” He sounded just as weary as he looked, and Mya felt as though her heart may burst.   
  
“Making my choice.”   
  
“Mya...”   
  
Mya blinked against sudden, inexplicable tears in her eyes. “Just shut your gob and kiss me, Theon.”   
  
The words had barely left her mouth before he was on her again, their bodies meshed together. Her fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt; in a flash, he yanked it off and tossed it aside. Mya trailed her fingers up the sharply defined muscles of his chest, spreading over his shoulders. The small groan that escaped his throat forced her eyes open, and they widened as they took in the purpled bruises covering his chest and stomach. “What-?”   
  
Theon glanced down almost sheepishly. “Motivation from my Uncle Vic. Let’s just leave it at that.” Mya stared at him wordlessly, speechless for no less than the fifth time that night, and then he was dragging her towards him and at the same time walking her backwards till her back was against the wall, his body tight against hers. His hips rocked against hers, and suddenly it was hard to think.   
  
“Tell me to stop.” Theon growled, his lips against her throat. He slid a hand down her side and thigh, wrenching her leg up around his hips. She could feel him against her through the fabric separating them, a foreign, solid presence. “Tell me, Mya.”   
  


“No.” The word was hard to pull from her throat, but she did so anyway. Her mind was made up. Maybe it had been from the second she’d walked in the door. Maybe not. As his palm slid up the inside of her thigh, she felt a steady heat pooling in her belly. His fingers brushed her center, and she whimpered in spite of herself. “Don’t stop.”

  
His fingers curled around the thin silk of her underwear, tearing them away with a soft purring sound, and in the next instant she felt the breath driven from her as he slid a finger into her. His thumb brushed her small, slippery nub of flesh, and Mya’s fingers scrabbled uselessly against the wall for purchase. “Theon...”  
  
His lips were on hers, softly prying them apart as his fingers began to move over her womanhood. Her hips rocked against his touch, every thought and bit of reasoning driven from her head as her entire being focused on him. Theon crooked  his finger suddenly inside her and the subtle movement sent a hot spear through her belly. He smiled his shark’s smile against her lips, his finger brushing something deep inside of her that caused her knees to buckle. “Yes, dove?”  
  
He wouldn’t let up, and there was no escaping what he was doing to her. Mya whimpered again, and he seemed to sense her need. Theon worked a second finger inside her, smiling wider at how she hissed. It stung, but it wasn’t how her body was stretching that was unbearable. The fire he’d lit had built into a pressure she couldn’t stand anymore. “I...I can’t...”  
  
Theon’s tongue flicked over the shell of her ear as he drove into her deeper. She heard him chuckle as she shuddered around him, his thumb still pressed against her pearl and he whispered. “Come for me, my sweet Mya.”  
  
She didn’t know if it was his voice or his touch that did it, but suddenly the pressure broke in wave after wave of intense pleasure. Mya buried her face against the curve of Theon’s neck, his skin hot against her as she muffled her cries, eyes squeezed shut and fingers digging into his back. _No one ever said it could be like this._  
  
After several moments, Theon slid his hand back up her side, kissing her softly. She leaned against his bare chest, breathless, her head spinning. She lifted her head from his shoulder, gazing up at him in something close to shock. “I’ve...it’s never...”  
  
“Hush, now.” He kissed her forehead, brushing her hair back from her temples before wrapping his arms tight around her. “Come to bed with me.”  
  
It was a simple request. His voice lifted slightly at the end, more a question than a demand and at Mya’s nod, he took her hand and led her to his rumpled bed. Mya swallowed hard at the sight of it - this was it. Everything she shouldn’t do with Theon, she was about to. It felt right. In spite of everything, he felt _right_.   


Theon’s hands slid the ill-fitting sundress up over her head, barely pulling his lips from hers. His fingers were light as feathers as they slid the straps of her slip over her shoulder, letting the silk sheath pool at her feet and she was naked before him. He sat on the edge of his bed, hands lightly on her hips, and stared at her so long she had to fight off the urge to cover herself. “Theon...”

  
He shook his head, drawing her closer. “I just want to look at you for a moment. Just,” his lips brushed a pert nipple, pulling it into his mouth. “Let me look.” He sucked lightly, hands splayed warm across her back, his tongue moving over her breast before switching to the other one, teasing back and forth. Mya’s head dropped back, each flick of his tongue causing her breath to catch. Theon pulled her flush against him, sliding back on his bed and bringing her down with him. His lips trailed down her belly, hands resting lightly on her hips and after a moment he rested his chin on her stomach, gazing up at her.  
  
“What?” she asked. Mya brushed a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead, trying to determine what was behind his smile, but he just shook his head.  
  
“If you could see yourself right now.” He slid back up, kissing a spot just under her ear that made her gasp. “Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”  
  
Mya smiled and let her fingers trip over his ribs, over his stomach. They paused at the waist of his pants, and she was suddenly struck by nerves. “I...Theon, I don’t really know what to do.”  
  
His chuckle rumbled against her throat as he sat back on his knees, covering her hands with his. “First thing is to get rid of these.” He gestured to his pants. “Go on then, dove.”  
  
Mya sat up, drawing her legs under her and fumbling with the pants a bit but eventually the fabric gave, and he helped her push them and his boxers off. Trying to hide the trembling in her hands, she wrapped her fingers around his arousal curiously, smiling a bit at the sharp way he inhaled. Her experience with a man’s body was limited. Oh be honest, she told herself. It’s non-existent. Her fingers moved over the soft skin, memorizing every inch of him. After a moment he stilled her hand.  
  
“Careful there,” he gasped, but made little move to stop her. “Otherwise we’re going to have us a real short night.”  
  
“We can’t have that now, can we?” Mya giggled a little, leaning in to kiss him. God, but the actual feel of his skin bare against hers was unbelievable. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it, or tired of it.   
  
“Not tonight, dove.” He let the kiss linger. “Not tonight.” Theon traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her eyes up to his. “Mya...” He let her name trail off, the rest of his question left silent. _Are you sure? Are you ready?  
_   
She nodded mutely and he laid her back. Reaching over to a cluttered nightstand, he dug briefly in a drawer, deftly slipping a rubber over himself before returning his attention to her. Theon nudged her thighs apart and she felt him press against her. For a split second she was scared again, and there was a sharp pinch, a brief rush of pain. She gasped, biting her lip against crying out as he eased into her. He paused, brushing hair away from her face. “Are you alright?” She nodded tightly, not trusting herself to speak. He slid a hand to her hip, adjusting her slightly, and some of the pain eased. His lips brushed over her cheeks as he continued moving in her, keeping his pace slow and gentle. Once she got used to the initial discomfort, his movements began to bring pleasure and Mya found herself mimicking his movements, arching slightly.  
  
Theon groaned against her throat, his warm fingers pulling her thigh up a bit. Something about the subtle shift caused Mya to gasp, and she felt the same pressure begin to build deep within her. She couldn’t stop the small, mewling cries coming from her lips but they only seemed to drive him on, his movements becoming faster, more erratic.   
  
Mya’s second climax came upon her suddenly, arching her back and rushing through her, the ultimate feeling of ecstasy. She writhed underneath Theon, crying out wordlessly with her mind deliciously blank. His movements slowed for a moment, his hand cupping her face as he kissed her. “Alright there?” he asked again breathlessly, and she nodded.  
  
“Good.” He sat back again, pulling her hips up over his and setting a fast, hard pace. His fingers gripped her hips tight enough to bruise, his eyes closed in concentration. Before too long his breathing grew harsh and he suddenly collapsed forward onto her, barely catching himself with an arm and burying himself in her one last time. She thought she heard her name on his lips, catching halfway through as he rocked against her and when he stilled and settled against her she wrapped her arms around him, lips resting in his hair.  
  
“God damn, Mya...” He lifted his head from where it had fallen against her shoulder, grinning sharply and still trying to catch his breath. “Not bad, doll.”  
  
Mya laughed in spite of herself, swatting at his arm as he rolled off of her. He pushed himself up on an elbow, eyes travelling down her flushed body and lingering on the slight red smear on her thighs. He looks downright proud of himself, the cad.  
  
He traced his finger in a line from her navel downward, frowning slightly. “Does it hurt?”  
  
Mya shrugged. “A little. Not much.” She looked up at him, suddenly nervous. “Was I...was it ok?”  
  
Theon’s smile grew and he kissed her soundly. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely, doll.” He patted her hip, jerking his head towards the bathroom. “Go clean yourself up, why don’t ya?”  
  
“Hm? Oh...right.” Mya slid out of bed and padded across the room naked, feeling ridiculously exposed and fighting back a case of the giggles. You’re punch-drunk, she realized. You’d laugh at anything right now.  
  
Theon wolf-whistled. “You have an amazing ass. Has anyone ever told you that?”  
  
She paused at the bathroom door, glancing coyly over her shoulder. “Why no, Detective, they haven’t.” Mya shut the bathroom door on his grin and leaned against it, pressing a hand to her face and trying to process what just happened. It had been hours ago that she’d been held prisoner at Pyke, unsure if she’d even see the light of day again and now, here she was naked in Theon Greyjoy’s bathroom, the remains of her virginity drying on her thighs and his myriad of confessions still pounding in her head.   
  
Even as she chuckled her stomach suddenly heaved, and she lunged for the toilet, vomiting as quietly as she could. What on Earth had she done? There’s in over your head, and then there’s this. She knelt wearily on the cool tile floor, leaning her forehead on her hand, feeling her stomach roil again.  
  
 _You’ve made your choice,_ she realized. _You knew what you were getting into and you picked him. You’ve known what his family is for weeks and you could’ve stopped any time you wanted and you didn’t. This isn’t anyone’s fault but yours, what you’ve done. You’re an adult now, and it’s time to start acting like it. If he’s in as deep as he says then he’s going to need you to keep it together on nights like this when he can’t. You saw him, you heard him. He needs you, so get off this floor, clean yourself up, and be what he needs you to be._  
  
Tugging the handle on the toilet, Mya pulled herself to her feet and splashed some cold water on her face, looking at herself in the mirror and flinching. She looked rough. Dark circles hung under her eyes, and the bruises Qarl had given her had faded to a sickly greenish-yellow. Her hair hung in still-damp strings, lank around her face, and her neck and breasts were covered in red suck-marks. Well, those aren’t too _bad_...in spite of the turmoil bashing around in her head Mya smiled, tracing one with a finger and feeling a bloom of heat in her belly. She raked her fingers through her hair, took a quick swig of mouthwash, and after dabbing herself clean, pulled the door open.  
  


Theon lay languidly in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist and a cigarette perched between his lips. He smiled when he saw her and patted the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around her as she slid under the sheet and passing her his cigarette. She inhaled it deeply, coughing just a little as she passed it back and feeling suddenly exhausted. It must’ve shown on her face, for Theon kissed her forehead and pulled the sheet closer over her. “Tired?” Mya nodded, and he set his cigarette in an ashtray on his nightstand, wrapping his other arm around her and gathering her close. “It’s been a hell of a week, dove. Go on then, get some sl-” He paused. “Did you hear that?”

  
Mya lifted her head, brow furrowed. “Hear what?”   
  
Theon lifted a finger, hushing her. “Stay here.” He vaulted out of bed, pulling on his pants but not bothering to fasten them, and pulled a heavy gun out of his nightstand drawer and checking the ammunition in it.   
  
“Theon, what in the world-?” Mya sat up, pulling the sheet over her chest, her heart in her throat.  They’ve found us, they’ve followed us here and they found us somehow-   
  
“Just stay here, doll.” He edged out of the bedroom, pulling the door partially shut after him.  She heard him bark an order, the crash of a lamp breaking, and a second, higher-pitched voice cried out.   
  
_Forget staying here._ Mya grabbed her slip off the floor and threw it on, peering out the door. Theon’s back was facing her, and he had his gun hand planted on his hip. He was yelling at someone; she couldn’t see who.   
  
“What in the  _hell_ are you doing here at this hour, kid? God...I nearly blew your head off! If your mother knew you were here she’d have both our hides pinned to the wall!”   
  
The second voice Mya heard piped up, indignant and angry. “She doesn’t know and anyway, you’re not even supposed to be here! Robb said you were out of town!” Mya tilted her head slightly, and when Theon moved to the side she couldn’t help but smile.  _And that must be Arya._ The girl was thin as a blade and quick even standing still, and right now she had fixed Theon with a furiously self-righteous glare, fists propped on narrow, boyish hips. Her clear gaze flicked suddenly over to Mya and then back to Theon, as if she were noticing for the first time his state of half-undress. A look of understanding dawned on her face. “Oh Jesus  _Christ_ , Theon!”   
  
Theon half-turned. “What, kid?” He followed her gaze and saw Mya, who offered a slightly bewildered smile. “Oh...right. Uh...” He ran a hand through his hair, grinning back at her. “Mya, Arya. Arya, Mya.”   
  
“Charmed.” Mya tried to bite back a giggle, but failed. “Is everything alright here?”   
  
“No.” Arya was nearly pouting. “All I want is some of Theon’s goods. I know he’s got some in the closet there, and instead I come down here and he pulls a gun on me with his willy hanging out!”   
  
Theon started and glanced down, hastening to fasten his pants. “Don’t you start, you little bearcat! Go on now, get back up to the house before anyone notices you’re gone. And not a word, do you understand?”   
  
“No! Not until you give me what I came for, Theon! C’mon.” She wheedled, pawing at his arm. “Just a little bottle. A teensy little wee one. No one’ll miss it, and it’s the only way I can bear Sansa going on and on about that dewdropper Baratheon  fella she’s so hung up on. You know how she gets.”   
  
Theon glanced over at Mya, his expression amused. She raised an eyebrow and half-nodded at him, shocked at herself.  _What’re you thinking? He can’t give that girl moonshine! She’s only what, twelve? Thirteen? A few hours of passion’s got your head all balled up!_   
  
Theon shook his head, obviously not willing to get into a debate or argument with Robb Stark’s baby sister. He sighed, set his gun on the back of his couch, and opened a closet door. Mya saw him fish around in the back, sliding aside a false panel and digging around. He pressed a small bottle into Arya’s hand. “There. Now take your belt and beat it. And if you get busted with that I don’t even know your name.”   
  
“Oh, bushwha.” Arya threw her spindly arms around Theon’s neck and cast a sardonic look at Mya. “I’ll leave you to your nookie, yeah?” Tossing a laugh behind her, she slipped out of of the front door.    
  
Mya burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching the doorjam for support as Theon watched through a window until Arya made it back up to the main house. He flipped the dead bolt and scooped up his gun before heading back to Mya. He pressed her against the doorframe, kissing her deeply and edging her back towards the bed. Slipping the gun back into his nightstand drawer, Theon turned back to Mya and rested his hands on her hips. “Sorry about that, dove.”   
  
“No big deal.” Mya shrugged, and tucked her head under his jaw. “Do you want me to stay?”   
  
In response, Theon scooped her up and deposited her on his bed, pinning her there with his body and kissing her neck. “What do you think?”

 


	18. Timing is Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb learns the necessity of knocking, and Mya learns one last secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last chapter of this section, but the story will go on, as will others in this AU.

When Theon woke up with the  salty tang of the sea filling his nostrils, he bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, he thought for a too-long moment he was back on Pyke. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, it all came back in a rush and he peeked under his rumpled sheets at where Mya was curled up around a pillow. Her sleep was restless. He could tell by the way she moved, hands curling reflexively around a blanket. He laid back with a sigh, tucking her under his arm; Theon understood what it was to have nightmares. He wondered if she always did, like him, or if those tiny whimpers were merely the result of her ordeal on Pyke.   
  
The smell of their ride across the bay lingered in her hair...that had been what had awoken him, he realized as he watched her sleep. She’d left her slip on after Arya’s little...visit, but one strap was slipping down over a creamy shoulder. He pushed it back up gently, letting his fingers brush over her collarbone and up her neck. When Mya smiled in her sleep and turned her cheek into his hand, wiggling a leg in between his, Theon couldn’t help but smile as well.   
  
He’d been sure she was going to run for the hills last night, until...until she’d kissed him. The kiss had been unexpected, but sweet, and when he’d pulled away, confused, she’d  _ demanded _ more. His cock stirred at the thought of what had followed, and he instinctively pressed closer to Mya, fitting himself around the curve of her ass. The risk to her, and him, was immense, as his family had shown him, but now...well, clearly he wasn’t able to cut her loose now.   
  
“Mmm...Theon?” Mya said drowsily, half-turning to face him. The soft morning light coming off the river lit her face beautifully, but could only do so much to hide the bruises fading there. He brushed his lips over her cheekbone lightly, and wondered how much more pain she would suffer because of him. “S’everything alright?”    
  
“Just peachy, dove. How d’you feel?” She’d seemed fine last night, but one never knew with virgins.   
  
Mya turned fully in his arms at that, wiggling up until they were nose to nose, those incredible blue eyes searching his face. “I feel...different. Like everyone will be able to see that I’ve lost my virtue.” She smiled quickly, laying a warm palm against his cheek. “Not that I’m not glad, it’s just...”   
  
Theon blinked. That hadn’t really been what he’d meant, but he went with it. “Nobody will know a thing, I swear. Although we’d better come up with some story about those bruises.” He touched one of said bruises with a fingertip, wracking his brain for a believable story. “Hmm...”   
  
Mya covered her hand with his, hiding the bruise. “How about this? I was trying to get my bag down from the overhead compartment on the train, and it fell and popped me right in the face.” She nibbled at the corner of her bottom lip, unsure. “What do you think?”   
  
“I think I need a kiss,” he said with a smile, letting his hand slide down the curve of her neck. Her pulse skittered and sped up under his palm, but she shied away from him.   
“I haven’t...” She smiled bemusedly as he pulled her back close. “I suppose I don’t have a toothbrush here anyway,” she said, kissing him gently. The soft sound of surprise she made against his lips when he pulled her atop him caused his hips to rock against hers. “Theon...what are you...?”    
  
Mya’s brow was furrowed, and she moved as if to get away from him, but Theon held her tightly against his body. “Ah, where d’you think you’re going?” Her face was puzzled. “Just...here,” he said, sliding her hips up a touch until she got his meaning, her eyes growing wide.   
  
“Theon!” She was biting her lower lip again, a nervous reaction this time. “I don’t...please,” She looked away, black hair a curtain across her face, hiding her expression from him. “I don’t know what to do...”   
  
He smiled sharply. She might say that, but the way her hips were rocking against his said otherwise. He let his fingers inch up the fabric of her slip, her thighs silky under his fingertips. “It’s real easy, doll. I promise.” She was quivering, whether from his touch or in anxiety, he couldn’t say. “You just let your body do what it wants to do.”   
  
Mya tucked the sheet of her hair behind one ear, giving him a uncertain gaze. “It doesn’t seem...” Her voice was cut off for a moment as she lifted her arms, letting him pull her slip off. “Theon...I’m still a little bit sore,” she said, draping herself across him in spite of her weak protest, her breasts pressed against his chest deliciously, lips seeking out his jaw line.    
  
His smile grew. “That’s to be expected. And this way will help,” he slid his hands down her ribs and to her hips, drawing them up until the tip of his cock was pressed against her entrance. “ Her cheeks were blazing, but when she pressed back, she was wet for him and they fit together as if they’d been made for each other. “Mya, my god,” he breathed.   
  
Her movements were small and hesitant as she eased herself down onto him, but the whimpers she was making were of pleasure, he was certain. Vaguely, Theon realized he’d forgotten a rubber, and objectively knew that was a bad thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had to force himself not to arch up into her as she finally sank all the way down, slowly impaling herself on him.  _ Let her set the pace _ , he reminded himself.   
  
Her hips rolled once, inexpertly, and Mya tilted forward a bit, hands splayed across his chest to balance herself. Theon could feel his battered ribs grinding together painfully, but the way Mya was arching her back made it impossible to focus on the pain. His hands were roaming over her body, and he brought them both to her breasts, cupping them and enjoying their slight bounce as she began to move faster on him.   
  
Her small whimpers became breathless cries as she ground against him, nails digging into his chest as she held herself up. Theon was on the verge of snaking an arm around her waist and flipping her, craving control as he always did, when the front door of his small guest house slammed.   
  
“Greyjoy? Who’ve you got back there with you? Kyra? Bess? Both? Girls, what manner of perversions does he have you doing now?” Robb’s voice held a familiar mixture of amusement and vague disapproval.   
  
Theon groaned, not even to himself, but right out loud, as Mya froze atop him. She squeaked, but seemed to be rooted to the spot in shock, and didn’t move an inch. Theon sat up, the two of them still joined in the most intimate way possible, and pulled a sheet around them both, just as the bedroom door swung open.    
  
Robb came in with a hand over his eyes, chuckling. “Can I look, or what? You never did say, is it Kyra, Bess, both...someone else?”   
  
Mya squeaked again, jabbing Theon in the ribs and burying her burning face in his neck. He held in most of the pain, just grunting once and clearing his throat. “Someone else. Take your hand off your face, you overgrown child, and you’ll see. And I haven’t had Kyra, Bess, or  _ anyone else _ ,” he injected a note of warning into his voice, “in quite some time, thank you.” A blatant lie, but lying had never bothered Theon much.   
  
Mya nipped at his neck sharply, whether for telling Robb he could look or for the other women, he couldn’t say, but it made him throb inside of her all the same. She gasped and dug a knuckle into his ribs, a pain that was not pleasurable for him in the least, but he merely tugged the sheet around them a bit tighter.   
  
Robb took the hand away from his face, the shit-eating grin on his face slowly fading as Theon leaned back against the headboard and nudged Mya’s face away from his neck. This was awkward for them, he mused, watching the shock flit across Robb’s face, followed by a sheepish smile that Mya seemed to catch like a sneeze, the two of them blushing like a pair of old maids. Theon had been caught in bed, or out of it, by Robb so many times now that it had ceased to bother him in the slightest.   
  
“Well?” Theon said, exasperated. “Did you want something, or do you just enjoy barging in on me?”   
  
Robb coughed once, finally tearing his eyes away from them. “Just got a call. Selmy wants us down at the precinct, post haste. Should I...?” He moved towards the door.   
  
“No,” Theon said curtly. Whatever Selmy wanted couldn’t be good, for him to be calling this early on a weekend. “Mya, honey, why don’t you go put something on? Robb, you sit.” Robb sat on the side of the bed, clearly uncomfortable.   
  
Mya dug the knuckle into his ribs again, and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “This is beyond embarrassing, Theon! I am  _ not _ getting up and walking around in the all-together in front of Robb. He’s Roslin’s fiance, for god’s sake!”    
  
Theon sighed. “Robb, close your eyes.”    
  
“Don’t worry, they most definitely already are,” came the reply.   
  
He raised an eyebrow at Mya and nudged her off of his lap, letting her wind the sheet around herself as she climbed off the bed. She gave him a once-over as she tucked one end under her arm, giving an incredulous shake of the head at the state of him, still obviously aroused. He just shrugged and winked at her, admiring her ass as she scurried to the bathroom. It would take far more than Robb barging in for him to lose steam.   
  
When she closed the bathroom door, he scrounged another blanket from the end of the bed and tossed it over his hips, punching Robb in the shoulder. “Goddamn it, Stark, you’ve got to start knocking, unless you want to join in. Now what did Selmy say?”   
  
Robb punched back lightly, swiveling on the bed to lean up against the headboard next to Theon, stretching his legs out with a sigh. “We’re fucked, partner. There was another flaying early this morning, and we’re spinning our wheels on this Tyrell case, and we’ve got  _ nothing _ on...” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Theon saw him fight back his emotions. “On Father and Robert.”   
  
_Another goddamn flaying? Oh...fuck me running. Bob Baratheon...that fucking list_ ,  Theon’s mind was suddenly racing. He’d been holding on to the information, trying to find the right time to tell Mya, but when was a good time to tell someone they were the dead mayor’s bastard child? And he’d meant to tell Robb about it first, but then shit had gone south after the ball, and there’d been no time.  _ Well, they’re both here now...   
_   
He’d no sooner had the thought than the bathroom door opened a crack, and Mya peeked out. “Oh,” she said, “Robb. You’re...still here.”  _ And sitting on the bed we were just fucking on _ _,_ Theon could almost hear her say.  _Except she wouldn’t say_ fucking, he told himself,  _she’d say_ ‘ making love’ _or some shit._ She edged out of the bathroom, crossing to the bed and perching on the foot of it, her legs tucked under her.   
  
Theon blinked, staring at her frankly. “What’ve you got on, doll?” She just shrugged shyly. He could see quite clearly what she had on: one of his white button-down shirts, the buttons done up wrong, and a pair of his red-and-white striped boxers. What he was trying to figure out was why. It came to him after a second...Sansa’s dress. He grinned; that was clever of her, to avoid putting on Robb’s sister’s dress. “And why’re you sitting way down there?” He patted his lap. “C’mon back up here, I’ve got something to tell you.”   
  
  
She and Robb sighed almost simultaneously, both moving to get up. Theon threw an arm across Robb’s chest. “No. You stay, you need to hear it too,” he said, lifting the blanket covering him for Mya to crawl under. She made herself comfortable on his lap, smiling shyly at Robb as she situated herself. “Alright, then?” Theon asked her dryly as she squirmed around. She  _ had _ to know what she was doing to him...she was probably doing it on purpose.   
  
“Just peachy,” she said, kissing his chin. “Now, tell me this important thing.”   
  
Theon looked at her a moment, tracing the small smile on her lips with his thumb, his grey eyes never leaving her clear blue ones, though when he spoke, it was to Robb. “Robb, go in the drawer there, under my gun...there’s an envelope with a list in it.”   
  
There was a faint metallic thunk, and the shuffling of papers, and a muttered curse, “Jesus H., how many rubbers does one man need, Greyjoy?”, before he came back up with the envelope.   
  
Theon snorted, snatching the envelope from his partner. “I gotta keep the Rolls stocked for you and Ros, don’t I?” Mya giggled at his wisecrack, and he smiled at her crookedly. Who knew how she’d take this next bit of news, so hearing her laugh was a boon. “Now, listen, both of you, this is important.” He ran a finger along the edge of the crisp envelope, thinking how best to proceed, then handed it back to Robb. “This was in a pile of your pop’s personal papers...” He raised a hand, cutting off Robb’s question. “Don’t ask me why they were among the other things, I don’t have a clue. Now I want you to open that, and tell me what comes to mind.”   
  
Robb withdrew the list, glancing at it carelessly first, but Theon saw the moment that he understood, and looked closer. After a moment, he spoke. “Theon...what do _you_ think this is?”   
  
Theon smiled over the top of Mya’s head, lowering his lips to the part in her hair briefly. “I know what it is, Stark. It’s a list of Robert Baratheon’s bast-...illegitimate children.” The glance Robb gave him would look bland to Mya, Theon knew, but he could see the questions in his partner’s eyes. “I’ve already done the checking. But you should recognize...a few names on that list.”   
  
“I do,” Robb nodded slowly, looking back down at the list. Theon realized it was to keep from having to look at Mya when she turned in his lap, her expression puzzled. “Little Eddie Storm, for one...” He trailed off, holding the list out to Theon, who snatched it before Mya could.   
  
“Theon? What is any of this to do with me?” Mya’s voice was unsteady, though, and he wondered if she’d figured it out.   
  
“Mya,” he started, then stopped, simply handing her the list. She took it from him slowly, leaning back to rest her head on his chest as she read. After a moment, Theon saw the list flutter from her hand and come to rest among the crumpled bedsheets. Robb took it up, steadfastly not looking at them. “Mya, doll?” Theon turned her face up to his, and was relieved to see she was dry-eyed.

  
“Are you sure?” she said quietly. “Are you- How do you know? For sure.” When she looked to him for an answer, he could see the resemblance, now that he was looking for it. He’d known Robert Baratheon for half his life, and her coal-black hair and deep blue eyes were strikingly similar.   
  
Theon nodded, cupping her face with one hand. “I’m sure. I did some looking into it, and I’m sure.” He touched his forehead to hers, returning her small smile. “Not to mention, you’ve got his look. Only far prettier.”   
  
Mya managed a small laugh. “Thanks, Detective. I suppose the only way to know for sure is to ask my mother...” She sighed, curling up against him. Theon did his best to fight down the urge he had to boot Robb out and slip  _his_ goddamn clothes off her...how did she manage to look so good in them? But that was less than helpful at the moment, he told himself. “I gave up trying to pry it out of her a long time ago. I’d resigned myself to not knowing. And now I know. But it’s too late...”   
  
Robb coughed beside them. “Mya, I’m sorry...for your loss, and that you had to find out this way, too late.” He patted her leg in a gesture that could’ve been awkward,  _ should’ve _ been awkward, but somehow wasn’t. All the same, it made Theon vaguely uncomfortable, and he was relieved when Robb stood, pulling his hand away. “Greyjoy, I’ll...give you a minute, but Selmy wants us twenty minutes ago. And that list?” He looked down. “Bring it. If the mayor or her father knows about it...”   
  
Theon felt Mya flinch at the word ‘father’, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I will. Bring the Rolls around, or take the Caddy if you want, but I’m taking Mya home before I do anything else.” He could do that much for her, at least, he thought.   
  
“I’ll get the Rolls,” was all Robb said, shutting the door gently behind him.   
  
When they heard the front door shut, neither Theon or Mya moved for a second, their breathing the only sound in the room. Theon broke the silence. “Mya, I should’ve told you sooner. I’m...sorry.” He hated apologizing for anything, but he had to admit it was warranted in this case. “It’s just...with the ball, and then my family...”   
  
She craned her neck, kissing him into silence. When she pulled away after a moment, she was smiling. “I understand, Theon.” She kissed him again when he opened his mouth to protest. “Really. Now what am I supposed to wear home? Not this, surely.” Her voice grew stronger with every word, and Theon couldn’t help but admire the way she’d recovered from the shock of it all.   
  
In the end, they decided Sansa’s dress, however ill-fitting, would be apt to raise less questions than his clothing. As good as she looked in the damn thing, Theon was secretly a bit disappointed; he loved seeing her in his rumpled shirt, and would’ve paid good money to see her housemother’s face when she walked in wearing men’s clothing. There was a tense moment when they couldn’t find her underwear, but Theon eventually fished them out from under the sofa, and they were on their way.   
  
Robb raised an eyebrow at Mya’s dress, but said nothing when she and Theon climbed into the back seat together. It was a bizarre feeling, being in the backseat, and Theon did his best to enjoy it, wrapping an arm around Mya and pulling her close. It was made difficult, however, by the absolutely horrifying driving of Robb. After the second, or possibly third, near-miss with another vehicle, Theon couldn’t help but grab Mya’s knee in an iron grip.    
  
She pulled his head down to whisper in his ear, giggling. “This is driving you nuts, isn’t it? The way he’s driving.”    
  
Theon smiled tightly, “You know me well, doll. This is why I never let him drive.” The way her hand was resting on his thigh was also driving him nuts, but he let it go...they were almost to her dorm now, anyway.   
  
When they finally pulled up to Rosby Hall, tires skittering on the curb as Robb over-corrected, Theon closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Robb, I’ll be just a second. Do me one favor.”   
  
“What’s that, pal?” Robb turned around to look at them, grinning.   
  
Theon smiled back as he opened the door for Mya. “Get the fuck out of the driver’s seat before I murder you. Any jury would find it justifiable homicide, the way you drive.” He ignored Robb’s injured snort, turning back to Mya, who was smiling faintly. “Now, dove, shall I walk you up?”   
  
She shook her head. “No, Mrs. Darry would cast a kitten. I’m just going to try and sneak by her.” He raised an eyebrow at her, amused, and she stood on tip-toe to kiss him, their lips just brushing. “You’re rubbing off on me, I think, Detective Greyjoy. Now,” she put a hand on his chest, pushing him back gently, her palm so warm it seemed to burn through his shirt, “go on and do your job. And call me later.”   
  
He let her push him until his back was against the car, trying to think of baseball or his times tables and not how completely aroused it got him to have her taking control. “I...” He swallowed hard. “You know I will.”   
  
The look she gave him was downright dirty, Theon thought, especially for a girl who’d only just been laid for the first time, but all she said was, “Good,” with a saucy grin as she walked away.     
  
“I-” Robb started, but Theon held a hand up, cutting him off as he backed out of the dormitory’s parking lot and into traffic expertly. “Theon-”    
  
“Robb, just...shut up for a minute, will ya?” Theon needed to think, and he couldn’t with Robb asking him all kinds of inconvenient questions. “Just let me drive in peace.”   
  
The drive to the precinct was blessedly quiet, a fact he was grateful for. When he parked, Theon turned to Robb, for once not smiling. “Don’t ask me. Whatever you were going to ask, don’t.” Robb opened his mouth to speak, and Theon cut him off again. “If you truly think of me as a brother, let it go. And whatever Selmy says, we’re not going to give up until we find out who killed your father, and Mya’s.” That was Theon’s guess...that they were going to be pulled from the Stark/Baratheon case, in light of the latest flaying. An active serial killer would take precedence over a stalled Mob hit any day.   
  
Robb nodded as they got out of the car, but he turned to Theon as they climbed the crumbling steps of the police house. “I only want to know one thing, and I’ll leave you be.”   
  
Theon sighed. “Go on, then.”    
  
“Are you serious? About Mya, I mean.” Robb put a hand on his shoulder, and Theon suddenly felt a hundred years old. “If not, Roslin’ll have both our heads, you know.”   
  
“I am, as it happens.” Theon grinned suddenly, pulling the door open and following his friend in. “But if you can’t control your woman, Stark, I understand...”   
  
Robb slugged him in the shoulder, as Theon had known he would, and he responded by ruffling his friend’s carefully combed hair into a mess of auburn curls. They were back to normal, or as normal as they could be, but their laughter stopped when old Barristan Selmy poked his head out of his office, scowling. “Stop grab-assing and get in here, you two,” he said.   
  
Selmy’s office, small and dark, was a small room attached to the office reserved for the chief of police. After Ned’s death, the custodial staff had tried to move Selmy into the larger space...and had sorely regretted it. He’d been quiet, yet firm, when he called them into his office, but the whole station house had heard the tongue lashing he’d given them through the thin walls.   
  
“Sit,” he barked at them, leaning against his desk, so unlike Robb’s or Theon’s, with its complete lack of clutter. They sat, exchanging a quick glance. “I’ll get straight to the point. The flayings have got to stop. That’s your main priority at the moment. The Tyrell case can go hang, for all I care.”   
  
Theon and Robb spoke at the same time.   
  
“Now hang on-!”   
  
“What about-?!”   
  
Selmy gave them the death stare he was famous for, and they both fell silent, but Theon saw how white Robb’s knuckles were, clenched against the arm of his battered chair. The kid he’d once been wanted to reach out and take his friend’s hand, but he didn’t. When Selmy spoke, his voice was softer, but no less firm.   
  
“We are not giving up on finding your father and Robert’s killer, I promise you that. But you two are stalled on it, and this...monster,” Selmy’s mouth twisted as he spat the word out, “we’ve got going around flaying women needs to be stopped. So pull your heads out of your asses, and stop him. The sooner you do, the sooner you’re back on the Stark/Baratheon case.”   
  
Theon noted how it went from “your father and Robert” to “Stark/Baratheon”. Selmy was no fool, he wanted them to put some distance between themselves and the case. He frowned, and this time he did reach over and lay a hand on Robb’s forearm, feeling the muscles tensed there. “Fine,” he said curtly. “Are we done here?”   
  
Selmy nodded, and Robb stood so quickly his chair tipped, clattering on the scuffed tile floor. Theon shoved him towards the door, muttering, “Just  _ go _ , damnit.” And so they went, off to hunt a killer.


End file.
